Adrien POV
The office lights are too bright.
I notice it the moment the doors slide shut behind us — how the white glare strips the warmth from my skin, how the world snaps back into place with ruthless efficiency.
Work doesn't stop because my heart nearly stopped on a Ferris wheel.
Cameron fell into step beside me, his stride effortlessly matching my own clipped pace. "You looked close to losing control back there."
"I didn't," I said, my gaze fixed straight ahead on the clinical corridor leading to the briefing room. Polished floors reflected the harsh overheads like knives.
He huffed, a dry, humorless sound.
My jaw clenches at the subtle accusation beneath it. "I wasn't."
"You almost did," he counters. "You were staring at her like you wanted to devour her right there."
I grit my teeth. "Watch yourself."
Cameron lets out another huff—a mix of mischief and amusement—a sound that scrapes against my nerves like sandpaper.
