Edward slammed the door shut behind him with a force that rattled the chandelier in the grand foyer. The sound reverberated through the marble-floored mansion, echoing like the c***k of thunder through the empty hallways.
He stormed into the living area, and shrugged off his jacket, flinging the expensive piece of clothing onto the couch where it landed haphazardly on the couch in a rumpled heap, its soft thud bellying the storm that raged inside him.
His fists clenched so tightly at his sides that it almost looked like skin would break. His chest rose and fell in uneven bursts. The image of Sarah's genuine smile—glowing, directed at that man, played over and over in his mind like a cruel loop he couldn't shut off.
Benicio Hawthorne. The name tasted sour on his tongue. He had
