Noah
Cassian frowned, his brows drawing together as he gave the handle another firm yank. The metal clicked, but the door stayed locked tight.
Slowly, very slowly, Cassian straightened his spine and turned his head toward the driver's seat.
Cyan was sitting there with his elbow resting on the window frame, his index finger hovering right over the central locking button on the dashboard.
He was wearing a wide, mischievous grin... the look of a person who had spent the entire drive home waiting for this exact moment.
"Unlock it," Cassian said, his voice dropping into a low, gravelly warning.
"No," Cyan said cheerfully.
"Cyan."
"I don't release emotionally constipated CEOs," Cyan replied, leaning his head back against the headrest with an airy sigh. "It's a strict personal policy of mine. Terrible for the complexion."
