As Anton left the building, he stalked down the steps with heavy, uneven strides, muttering curses under his breath. His jaw still ached from Darno's brutal punch, and every movement sent a dull throb radiating across his face. He shoved a hand into his jacket pocket, searching for his phone so he could call his driver and retreat to safety. But as his fingers brushed through the fabric, another thought struck him.
"Forget the driver," Anton whispered, forcing a smug grin to return to his swollen face. "I'll just drive the gift home myself. That'll calm me down. Nothing feels better than putting my hands on a brand-new wheel."
Yet when his hand dipped deeper into his pocket, the grin quickly melted away. His fingers fumbled at empty air, and realization hit him like a bucket of cold water.
