Fiona
Ethan looks over the report again, slower this time, taking in every little thing printed on the papers, and I can tell his anger is rising. Ryan shakes his head when I step around the desk, but I take the chance and lay my hand on Ethan’s arm. He doesn’t move, so I squeeze his bicep in what I hope is a comforting gesture.
I’m not sure what’s going on, but if I can help him calm down, I want to.
“Trust me, Ethan. I would never submit something so absurd. Anyone with a hint of intelligence would know that submitting a withdrawal request within a contract is a disaster. I followed your written instruction and Ryan’s notes exactly, so this report shouldn’t exist,” I tell him, trying to put as much confidence in my tone as possible.
Turning, Ethan studies me. Green eyes sweep over
