|Gryphon's POV|
I don't breathe right for a full thirty seconds after I hang up.
Not because of the jet lag, or the bastard of a board meeting I just stormed out of without so much as a nod. Not because my assistant is probably tailing me down the hotel corridor with a phone full of missed calls and a list of people threatening to sue me for walking out.
But because Serena said I'm fine in that voice.
That quiet, frayed thread of sound I know better than the f*****g beat of my own heart.
And I know she's not.
I slam the door to my suite behind me and head straight for my closet, fingers already yanking the zipper down the side of my garment bag. Every motion feels mechanical, too fast, too sharp, like if I don't keep moving I'll fall into the rage clawing its way up my spine.
Becaus
