The sidewalk outside Ispire Inc. became a stage for a silent, high-stakes drama. To the commuters rushing toward the subway and the tourists admiring the neon-lit skyline of the business district, it looked like a standard corporate encounter, a high-powered CEO joining his star assistant and a lingering acquaintance for a brief exchange. But within the three-foot radius surrounding Darien, Amara, and Hansen, the air was screaming with a pressure that threatened to shatter the glass walls of the skyscraper behind them.
Darien's hand remained anchored to Amara's shoulder. His touch was heavy, the heat of his palm seeping through the navy wool of her blazer like a brand. Inside, he was a tempest. The scent of another man clinging to Amara's skin was an affront to every draconic instinct he possessed. His shadow seemed to stretch across the pavement, darkening the concrete beneath Hansen's feet as if the sun itself were being blotted out by his presence.
