The Playbook for Heartbreak
He was supposed to be happy she had an outlet that didn't involve corporate politics or enforcer drama.
Instead, the mere thought of Maya sitting across a small, round table from Eve—watching the faint, luminous curve of Eve’s lips when she got excited about data, hearing her quiet, musical laugh without a camera in sight—made a dark, hot, suffocating rage flare in his gut.
It wasn't about optics. It wasn't about Marcus’s strategy. And it sure as hell wasn't about Vance.