After breakfast, I grabbed my purse and headed for the door, my senses brushing over the air behind me. Even without turning, I could feel him on the couch—steady, watchful, his presence pressing against my awareness like an unspoken claim. I raised a brow and glanced back, meeting Elliot's gaze. "President Presgrave, I'm going to pick up Jared now. Are you planning to stay here?"
The question carried more than words. It was a boundary.
Frustration flickered across his features, sharp and restrained, like a dominant being denied something he believed was his right. I could almost hear the growl he swallowed back. He wanted to come—but I had no intention of letting him insert himself into every part of my life.
He stood anyway, smooth and decisive, his energy shifting as if the room answered to him. "I'll drop you off at Nigel's place." His tone carried weight. The kind that expected obedience.
"No, it's fine. I can get a cab."
"My car is right downstairs."
"I don't—"
