"Do what you want," Brian said coldly, his words clipped. He hit the intercom button. "Show him out."
Derek didn't budge. His eyes caught a photo on Brian's desk—a high school snapshot of Rachel and Brian, dated just after she'd left.
The sight twisted a knife in Derek's chest.
He spun on his heel, striding toward the door, but paused with his hand on the knob. "Brian," he said without turning, voice low, "you better not have any designs on her."
Brian's scoff cut through the air. "Derek, who do you think you are to say that? Her ex-mate?"
Derek's shoulders stiffened. Without another word, he slammed the door behind him.
Brian stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, expression blank as he dialed Rachel's number. When she picked up, he said, "You'll need to come back to finalize the bon
