The words psychological trauma tumbled relentlessly through Lucas’s head as he led Celia up the stairs.
He knew he had crossed a line.
The dresser shoved in front of the door had been too much. He had seen it on her face even though she never said a word. She had gone without lunch and dinner the night before because he had effectively trapped her in the room with him, and she had been too gentle to wake him while he slept. The knowledge sat heavy in his chest, sour and sharp with guilt.
He could feel her anxiety rising as they approached the office. She didn’t want to be in this meeting. He didn’t blame her. Gregory was unpredictable at best and cruel at worst. She was right that his reaction to her presence would likely be negative.
And still, the thought of her being out of his sigh
