Killian’s POV
The lobby door shut behind us. Elliot said something about the private jet schedule. I don’t remember what. I nodded. I probably gave a rote answer. Or didn’t.
I couldn’t think.
Every step away from her felt wrong. Like I’d walked out of something I wasn’t done with. Something still burning hot and dangerous on my skin.
By the time we reached the elevator, I knew I wasn’t going to sleep. I knew I wasn’t going to work. I knew exactly where my mind was going to sit—tight, unmoving, and obsessively replaying the sight of Charles Jacques smiling at her—until I saw her again.
And I f*****g hated that.
I hated how easily she got to me. How she got under everything I thought I had bolted down. She was a liability, a loose wire, and she was mine.
When Elliot and I split off
