The next morning, Ethan saw her laughing across the office with one of his new interns. The sight twisted something sharp in his chest.
He didn't like it. Not one bit.
Lena caught his gaze and smiled innocently, completely unaware of the storm she'd stirred.
He walked over, deliberately slowing his pace, making sure she noticed him.
"Good morning," he said, voice low, edged with a possessiveness he hadn't expected to feel.
She looked up, eyes sparkling. "Morning."
"Why are you laughing with him?" he asked casually, though his tone betrayed the tension simmering beneath.
"I—just talking," she said, tilting her head, clearly amused by his question.
Ethan's pulse raced. Every instinct screamed at him to pull her close, to stake a claim, to let her know she wasn't just anyone. She was his obsession now, and he hadn't even admitted it—to anyone, or even to himself.
And yet, something inside him whispered that she might already know.