Chapter 97

• My leg won't stop shaking under the mahogany table. The leather chair feels like ice against my back, and every breath tastes like fear and expensive cologne. Ryder's staring at me from across the conference room, one eyebrow cocked in that way that usually makes my stomach flutter. But I can't look at him. Not now.
• Not when I know what's coming.
• I force my gaze to the floor-to-ceiling windows instead, watching the storm clouds gather over the Caldwell estate grounds.