Jayden's chest heaved in ragged, shallow breaths, his lungs fighting for air as if he had just run a marathon rather than stood burning in the suffocating silence of his executive office. Planted firmly behind his vast mahogany desk, his hands dug viciously into his hips, fingers white-knuckled against his trousers. Every nerve in his body was raw, coiled tight with a volatile mixture of cold fury and raw, unadulterated possessiveness. His knuckles twitched as he stared intently at the heavy double doors, waiting—demanding—the arrival of the one person who had single-handedly upended his composure.
When the latch finally clicked, the sound cut through the room like a crack of thunder.
