Michael's POV
I glanced at my watch for the third time in five minutes.
She was late.
Allyson Morris was never late. Not once in all our months of working together had she kept anyone waiting. She arrived early, prepared, flawless. Always.
Which meant something had gone wrong.
And I knew exactly what that something was.
Reagan.
My jaw tightened as I surveyed the room. Thor sat at the head of the polished conference table like a king on his throne, fingers drumming an impatient rhythm against the wood. His board members flanked him like stone sentinels, their faces carved with disapproval.
The tension was thick enough to cut.
Thor's steel-gray eyes locked onto mine, and his voice carried a warning when he spoke. "Michael, you know how I feel about tardiness."
I kept my expression calm, professional. Inside, my thoughts were racing. Where was she? What had my son done now?
"My team is reliable," I said evenly. "They'll be here shortly."
