Adam's hand curled into a fist the moment Sofia ended the call with a soft "Goodnight"—calm, final, like it cost her nothing. Like she hadn't just refused him. Again.
It wasn't the word no that unsettled him—it was how effortlessly she delivered it.
No hesitation. As if he were just another man.
As if someone like her could afford to dismiss someone like him. And that infuriated him more than he wanted to admit.
He rose from his chair in a slow, deliberate motion, the leather creaking under the shift of his weight. A scowl darkened his face as he marched out of his office, every step echoing with purpose.
She wasn't getting away from him.
She could hang up on him. She could say no.
But she wouldn't find peace—not while he still had breath in his lungs and her name burned beneath his skin like a brand.
He had tried to be patient. To be gentle with her, even when it went against every ruthless instinct in him. All he asked for was dinner. A conversation. A moment.
