Owned by my boss
Nic asked, stepping into the room in black pants and an open vintage shirt that revealed his sculpted chest.
“Your so-called fiancée,” I snapped.
His expression turned cold. “What did she want?”
“Nothing—just called to threaten me.”
He said nothing, but the look in his eyes told me he already had something darker in mind for her than I ever could.
“So we’re just going to ignore this?” I demanded, following him into the kitchen.
“Not now, Sienna,” he muttered, pouring himself a glass of whiskey.
“You promised, Nic!” I yelled, anger bubbling over.