The tension had been building for weeks, thick and heavy like storm clouds that refused to break. I could feel it every time Delucas looked at me, every time our paths crossed in the penthouse. It was in the way his gray eyes lingered a second too long, the way his voice dropped lower when he said my name. I told myself I was imagining it. I was just the debt, the payment. Nothing more. But my body wasn’t listening to reason anymore.
That night, Delucas came back furious. I heard the elevator doors open from my room, followed by the sharp sound of his shoes against the marble. I stayed put at first, but something pulled me out into the main living area. He stood by the bar cart, pouring whiskey with a hand that was steadier than it had any right to be after whatever hell he’d just dealt w
