MICHELLE's P O V
When I finally made it up to the penthouse, it was forty-five minutes after eleven o'clock in the evening. Despite the fact that I was in a hurry, I made certain that Devon’s coffee was prepared flawlessly and according to his usual preferences.
‘‘You’re late…’’ he snapped at me the moment I entered his study room. He took his gaze away from the display of his laptop and directed it squarely in my direction.
I froze. The throbbing in my head resumed, and my heart raced in response to the anxiety I was feeling.
‘‘I… I was late for the ten o'clock bus, Sir...'' As I placed his coffee on his desk, I stutteringly attempted to say something.
After staring at the coffee for a few seconds, he raised his gaze and gave me a menacing expression. His eyes had become increasingly dark.