Sandy's POV
I pushed through Charles's office door without bothering to knock. He stood hunched over his desk, palms pressed flat against the surface, shoulders tense as he drew measured breaths.
"Charl—"
"So that's your response to what I presented?" His voice cut through my words, eerily composed. "Dominic is your choice?"
"No." The word barely escaped my lips as I shut the door and pressed my spine against it.
His shoulders shifted, muscles flexing beneath the crisp white fabric of his shirt. Heat pooled in my mouth as I forced myself to look at the papers scattered across his desk.
The unsigned contract lay there, mocking me.
"You wanted to hand me a position here so I could be your plaything, Charl. No marking, no recognition in our world, just what? A convenient arrangement where you get to fuck me whenever you please?" My pulse hammered against my ribs. "I won't become that for you, Charles. I refuse to sink that low. I need a Ezekiel to claim me properly."
