Elena's Point Of View

“And where do you think you’re coming from, Elena?”

His voice froze me mid-step, sharp and dripping with authority, that same cold entitlement that used to send a shiver through me… not the good kind.

I turned slowly, hand still on the staircase railing. Graham stood a few feet away, in a grey shirt rolled up to his elbows and black slacks, like he’d just come from a photo shoot for 'Controlling Husbands Monthly'. His jaw was clenched, a glass of scotch ...