Roxie Sterling

The heavy brass handle of the private executive suite felt like ice beneath my fingertips, but the heat radiating from Garrison’s body right behind me was a suffocating, solid wall.

“Julian,” Garrison said quietly, his voice flat as he addressed his brother. “Is the lower perimeter clear of the shadow committee’s legal team?”

“The lawyers are already in federal vans, big brother,” Julian replied as he casually closed his silver terminal.

He rose from the mahogany desk, a knowing smirk crossing his face as his amber eyes moved between us. He hadn’t commented on Garrison’s long fingers still wrapped around my wrist, but the knowing look in his...