Third person's POV
Rowan’s hand tightened around his phone, knuckles paling. The moment Liora’s voice went quiet on the other end of the call, a pulse of irritation surged through him. She’d spoken softly, almost apologetically, saying she couldn’t make dinner tonight. Something about a last-minute emergency, her friend needed help, she’d explain later. He’d listened in silence, jaw tightening with every word.
When she hung up, the stillness in his office felt heavier than before. The glass windows stretched across the skyline, but even the city lights below did little to distract him. He stood there for a long moment, staring at his own reflection in the window, cold, controlled, unreadable.
He didn’t like being stood up. He especially didn’t like being stood up by her.
Rowa
