Calla’s POV
The door swung open to reveal Marcus Blackthorn standing in the threshold like he owned the world—which, given the fortress I was apparently imprisoned in, maybe he did.
He looked different than I remembered from our last encounter. Less businessman, more… predator. The expensive outfit was gone, replaced by dark jeans and a black henley that somehow made him seem more dangerous rather than less formal. His salt-and-pepper hair was styled with casual accuracy, and his smile carried the kind of warmth that would have been charming if I didn’t know he’d orchestrated my kidnapping.
“Calla,” he said, like we were old friends meeting for coffee instead of captor and prisoner. “I hope my men weren’t too rough during your transport. They can be overzealous when it comes to security
