Oliver's POV
I saw the look on my father's face the moment his eyes settled on Aurora. It wasn't the fiery hatred of an enemy, nor was it the warm acceptance I had secretly hoped for. It was a cold, sharp look of disapproval—the kind of look he used when a tactical maneuver had gone catastrophically wrong.
Aurora, sensing the sudden drop in temperature, scrambled to her feet. She looked small against the backdrop of the massive office, her nervousness radiating so strongly it made my wolf whine in a desperate urge to shield her.
She bowed her head slightly, her voice small and trembling.
"Good day, sir," she greeted him, her fingers twisting together.
My father didn't return the greeting. He gave her one quick, clinical look, and then he dismissed her entirely, turning his piercing blue gaze back to me. The warmth he had entered with had evaporated, replaced by his heavy aura.
