Because beneath the anger, beneath the confusion, there was something else.
Something far more dangerous.
His thoughts drifted back to Iva.
To the penthouse.
To the night they had shared.
A slow breath left his lips, but it turned uneven as memories flooded him, vivid and relentless, pulling him back into the warmth of her presence, the way she had looked at him, the way she had felt in his arms, the way everything between them had felt inevitable, like gravity itself had drawn them together.
He closed his eyes, but that only made it worse.
He could almost feel her again.
“Damn it…” he whispered, his voice strained.
She was still there.
Alone.
Waiting.
Hopefully she had recovered by now, he thought, his brows knitting together slightly, concern slipping through the cracks of hi
