Crossing Lines
“You disappear all night, ignore my calls, and roll up in a fucking limo wearing designer everything like you’ve been body-snatched, and all I get is hey?”
“I need to talk to you,” I said, barely above a whisper. “Inside.”
We walked up the stairs in silence. But the second the door clicked shut behind us, the dam broke.
“Who the fuck is he?” Mark’s voice was raw, his chest heaving. “What kind of guy yanks you out of our life like that and turns you into this overnight?”
I swallowed hard, bile burning the back of my throat.
“Nathan Cross.”
He laughed. It was loud and sharp, almost manic. “Jesus. Nathan fucking Cross. Your boss. Of course it’s him. Of course it’s the guy who owns half of Manha