Sloane pov
I didn't look up immediately. I took a slow, deliberate sip of my tea, letting the porcelain click quietly against the saucer before I finally raised my eyes.
He looked unhinged. The perfectly pressed, ironclad CEO who spent his life hiding behind bespoke suits and controlled communication was completely gone. His hair was slightly disheveled, his jaw was clenched so hard the muscles were leaping, and his grey-blue eyes were practically burning with a dark, wild fury.
I leaned back in my chair, crossing my arms. I wasn't the spineless girl who used to cower in the background of this house. I was Sloane Carter, a woman who had survived corporate sociopaths, a garbage boyfriend, and a literal fatal car crash. It took a lot more than a wealthy man shouting in a dining room to make me flinch.
"Good morning to you too, Caelan," I said, my voice smooth, light, and entirely unbothered. "You're making an awful lot of noise for eight-thirty. You'll wake the house."
