Meadow’s POV

The doors had just slid open, and walking so casually through them, was Alaric Ashford, wearing a black suit that would’ve made my mouth water if my tongue didn’t feel so dry.

He looked terrifyingly calm and controlled. And the smirk playing at the edge of his lips was anything but casual.

It was calculated. Dangerously calculated.

Nova, who had been gearing up for another rant, visibly froze in her spot.

“Ho—ly shit,” Nova whispered under her breath. “Those ...