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Riley’s POV
My phone buzzed just after six. I groaned and rolled over, blinking through the early light cutting across my curtains. The screen glowed with a single message from Michael.
"Come upstairs. Now."
That was it. His normal command and direct order.
I sat up too fast, heart thumping. The sheets slipped off my body, still warm from sleep and the leftover heat of memories I hadn’t asked for. My legs tangled as I swung them out of bed. I didn’t know what he wanted, but I moved anyway.
Brushing my teeth felt robotic. I slapped cold water on my face, tugged my hair into a loose bun, and threw on a blouse and slacks.
My fingers hesitated on the buttons, still remembering the way his hands had slid under my dress last night. The way we said it was nothing, and made it everything
