He was calm.
That was the first thing that made my skin prickle.
Zander walked toward me slowly, his hands tucked into his pockets like he had all the time in the world. Each step was measured, unhurried, the kind of walk that said he wasn’t worried about what he’d find—only about how he’d deal with it.
Fear slid under my skin, thin and sharp, but I kept my face calm. Neutral. Curious, at most. I refused to give him anything he could pull apart.
He moved around the desk, boots quiet against the floor, until he stopped right beside me.
Too close.
I could smell him now—clean, dark, unmistakable. I didn’t look up at him immediately. I let the silence stretch, let him feel like he was the one waiting.
His eyes swept the room before settling on me.
“Sneaking around?” he asked.
His voic
