Sebastian’s POV
The file in my hand is a prop, pages blurring as her words hang in the air—“What are you sorry about?”—but I keep my gaze steady, watching her squirm under the weight of it. Lena Sawyer stands there in my office, her petite frame rigid with tension, her hazel eyes flashing a storm of green and gold. She’s a vision even in flats and that simple blouse—hair pulled back, a few strands escaping like they’re rebelling against her control. My chest tightens, that familiar pull I’ve been fighting since the club. But I lock it down. Professional. Always.
“Everything,” she says finally, her voice a mix of defiance and plea, arms crossing over her chest like armor. “I get that you are mad at me, but I will take any other kind of punishment, just not working with Sienna.”
Mad at he
