Chapter 14

The minute the voice spoke, Amaya shivered. Her domineering boss stepped into the already-full meeting area, and her jaw slacked. It fell to the floor, and she swore she saw some mischief in his eyes as he looked at her and repeated, "Who is engaged?"

Standing at the door was the man who’d done unholy things to her body six years ago, looking no less god-like than he had that night, with one exception—now he looked a whole lot scarier as he raised his brow at her. Chase wore pale grey slacks that seemed like they’d been sewn directly onto his body, a white tailored shirt, and a formidable scowl. He looked ready to behead Amaya and feed her limbs to the crowd of people who’d gathered around him. Beside him was a dark-haired man an inch shorter than he was. Justin.

He had small, black, vacant eyes—the opposite of Chase’s deep indigo. But they had the same disapproving frown that made her feel like the dirt under their Bolvaint shoes. And probably the same amount of authority to fire you