The photograph was a declaration. A threat. Julian Croft wasn't just a voice in an email; he was here. Watching. Making it clear that no corner of my life was untouched. He can’t protect you. A direct challenge to the man kneeling before me.
Sterling saw the look on my face. He stood and glanced at the phone screen. A wave of cold, lethal fury radiated from him, and the air in the room dropped five degrees.
"He's been following you," he growled.
"He knows where I live," I whispered, the reality of the danger crashing down. I had been so focused on infiltrating Sterling's world that I had been blind to the fact that I was also being hunted.
"He knows where you used to live," Sterling corrected, his voice sharp and possessive. "You live here now." With me."
He turned from the phone, his
