The door to Andrew’s penthouse slammed shut behind him with a thunderous echo that vibrated through the marble floors.
He didn’t bother removing his coat. Didn’t pause to acknowledge the butler who offered a polite greeting. His strides were long, furious, almost unhinged, and the moment he reached his bedroom, he locked the door behind him.
Then all hell broke loose.
The lamp on the side table was the first victim. It crashed into the wall with a metallic clang and a shattering of glass that echoed like gunfire. Books followed—yanked from the shelf and hurled across the room, pages fluttering like broken wings. His tie was ripped from his neck, thrown with shaking hands as his breath came in ragged, angry bursts.
The image wouldn’t leave his mind.
Brad’s hands on Amelia.
Her lips on
