Christopher
The noise outside my office pulls me from my thoughts. A muffled voice, high-pitched and frantic, pierces through the heavy oak door.
"You can't go in!" my assistant screams, her voice shaky with panic.
“Move.” A second voice, deep and commanding, cuts through her protests.
I push back from my desk, my chest tightening as I stride toward the door. My footsteps echo in the quiet office, the tension in the air thick enough to choke me.
“What the hell is going on?” I bark, yanking the door open, ready to reprimand whoever thought they could disrupt my morning.
But I stop dead in my tracks.
Shit.
Standing there, just outside my office, is James Alexander.
His broad frame fills the hallway, his shoulders squared in a pristine dark suit that looks like it cost more than my c
