I slid into the backseat, my legs touching the hot leather but I hardly noticed. I was so irritated that he yelled at me. As if I could read his mind and know, he didn’t want me in his library.

I curled my fingers around my bent knee and ground my teeth together. Then to accuse me of flirting with Jones.

Hardly. The man was nicer to me than Fletcher ever had been that was for sure. He didn’t toss a black card at me and expect that to pacify me enough to live alone. The back ...