Tracy had barely stepped through the penthouse doors when she felt it—air thick with silence, the kind that wasn’t empty but waiting. Watching.
Alex Knight stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, city lights burning behind him like a crown of fire. His suit jacket was draped carelessly over the arm of the sofa, his tie loosened, but his posture was anything but relaxed.
He didn’t turn. Didn’t need to. His voice carried, smooth but edged like glass.
“Did you enjoy your coffee, Miss Morgan?”
Her heart slammed against her ribs. She froze mid-step, hand tightening around the strap of her bag.
“How—” she began, but the question died in her throat. Alex turned then, slowly, his gaze cutting through her like a blade.
“Do you take me for a fool?” His tone was quiet, but dangerous—the kind of c
