Scott didn’t slam the club door when he walked out, but the impulse twitched inside his wrist. That alone was a warning sign. He almost never reacted impulsively. He wasn’t wired that way. Control was something he had sharpened into a habit, carved into his spine like a second bone structure.
But the moment Sofia had looked at him like he was an inconvenience, like he was noise something in him had cinched tight. He was trying to wrap his head around what changed. They were already getting to know each other, all of a sudden she's giving him a cold shoulder. Is it because she knows he owns the club now? She doesn't want to have anything to do with her boss?
He stepped into the afternoon light with a steady breath, ignoring the prickle of anger crawling under his skin. The day was still y
