“Go inside. I’ll take care of everything.”
That has her looking up, and my heart lurches. Tears fill her eyes, letting the anger, confusion, and hurt shine brightly up at me.
“I’ll handle things from here,” I promise, nudging her toward the door again. This time, she doesn’t hesitate to go inside and close the door between us.
Fiona
I exhale on a shaky breath, sliding to the floor against the door. Seeing him again, having him touch me was too much. Then he spoke in that soft, deep voice that sends my body melting into a warm puddle.
“I’ll handle things from here,” he’d said. Handle what? I want to ask, want to throw the door open and demand to know what’s going through his head, but I can’t move. My body is frozen from shock and exhaustion.
Was he talking about the reporters or
