Hillary
“Adam,” my voice trembles, much worse than my hands are right now. I immediately get out from behind his desk so I’m not in a position where he could easily hit me on the head with a fire extinguisher or slit my throat with a pocket knife and cover up my murder.
I watch the darkness swallow his face, his jaw clenching and unclenching. “Why are you going through my stuff?” he demands.
“Excuse me? Inappropriate photos of me is your stuff?” Anger bellows through me. I didn't notice when Georgia walked in.
“What? Inappropriate photos?” She furrows her brows, then moves her eyes to the stack of photos I’m holding.
I block her path with my arm and keep her away from the bloody creep, who is brewing with anger like I didn’t just catch him with a stack of my photos. I never would hav
