ROMAN’S POV
I walked back into my office and closed the door with precisely the amount of force required to shut it and nothing more.
That was the thing about control. You either had it or you didn’t, and I had spent twenty five years building mine into something airtight, something that didn’t crack under pressure or bend under provocation, something that could sit across a table from the most dangerous Alphas on the continent and give nothing away.
I sat down behind my desk.
He had been holding her hand.
Not in the way that meant something, I was aware of that on a rational level, it had been a loose, easy thing, the kind of contact that happens between people walking closely together and means nothing. I was aware of that. I catalogued it, assessed it, and filed it under irrelevant
