Freya's POV
"Neither do I."
His voice carried an edge of authority that sent shivers down my spine. "Should I dispatch someone to locate you immediately?"
My lips parted slightly as I gripped the phone, rendered speechless for a moment. Finally, with reluctant resignation, I surrendered. "Fine... it's just a small cut on my arm. Already cleaned it up. A couple of bandages should handle it."
"Just a small cut?"
"Yes."
"Studio or apartment?"
"Studio."
"Head home. No more work tonight. Lock everything up tight, and if anything goes wrong, contact me immediately. I'll take care of it."
His commanding tone left me in a strange daze, wondering why I was allowing him to orchestrate my evening so completely.
We meant nothing to each other officially.
Yet his behavior suggested I was someone precious to him, someone worth protecting.
"Listen... he's gone now, everything's fine, and this scratch is really nothing worth—"
