The Guarded Obsession
To fire him, burn the contract, anything to smother the heat coiling in his chest.
He went for the bar cart instead, took the bottle, and poured until the glass was more full than it should’ve been. The crystal was cold against his hand, grounding him for half a second then slipping, because nothing really steadied him.
He swallowed the burn and let it scrape down his throat. “You hear anything about that burner?” he asked Isabella, his voice sharper than he meant, clipped and jagged.
She didn’t flinch. She stood at his desk, typing on her tablet, with a mean. “IT is still working on it. Whoever locked this down knew what they were doing. Military-grade encryption. Professional.”
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