Chapter 8
The morning after the disastrous dinner with Marcus Thorne, the penthouse was suffocatingly quiet. Thy was a storm cloud of contained fury. He had spent most of the night on his phone, his voice a low, lethal weapon as he issued commands to unseen subordinates. Crystal knew, without a doubt, that he was systematically destroying Marcus Thorne’s life.
She kept her distance, the intensity of his rage a palpable force field. He had barely looked at her since their explosive encounter the night before.
Just after noon, he strode into the living room where she was curled on the couch, pretending to read.
“I have to go out,” he said, his voice clipped. “There is a situation that requires my personal attention.”
He walked to the elevator, then paused, turning back to her. His e
