Two and a half years later.
Matthew looked across the jet at Allan, shell-shocked. Who was this guy? He couldn’t possibly be the Allan Sinclair?
The man he had known for twelve years couldn’t possibly be the same one sitting across from him now.
The Allan he knew was always sharp, poised, and elegant. He exuded power and commanded the attention of a room by just walking into it. He was imposing, both by body statue of a six foot three build with broad shoulders to match and by nature of how he spoke and how he moved. Even a glance from Allan could reduce a man in size. There was always a shine in his eyes that sparkled more in his rare moments of mischief. A subtle smile on his lips would either tighten and turn up in a sign that he was quickly losing his temper, or spread in a wide
