Inside his room, Daniel stood beneath the pounding shower, every inch of him soaked while frustration pulsed through him like a second heartbeat.
Water streamed down his shoulders, but it did nothing to cool the heat simmering beneath his skin. His jaw locked tight; his knuckles whitened as his fist pressed against the tiled wall.
'How in hell am I supposed to make her see what I feel?'
Daniel had never needed anyone to understand him. In business, his words were commands, his intentions always crystal clear. But with Anna, everything seemed to twist.
Every gesture he made, every word—she turned it into something else entirely.
A harsh, humorless chuckle escaped him—low at first, then rising into a dark, incredulous laugh that bounced off the glass walls of the cubicle.
"Forgive me?" he muttered, the words tasting like irony. "She thinks she forgave me."
His laughter died as abruptly as it began. A thought struck, sharp and unwelcome.
