Fiancee

The sound of the office door closing on Seraphina and Olivia was like the cocking of a gun.

Adrian Thornfield remained immobile. He stood beside his desk, straight-backed, hands clasped tightly at the back, fixed on the door long after it closed. His jaw was set, face carved out of ice. The following silence was heavy, resonating with unspoken tension.

Sean reclined across the room in his couch of leather, one leg slung over his knee. One glance from him to the door, lips working with restrained laughter. Awaits a beat—then speaks up himself to break the quiet in a careful, slow timing.

"Aha…" he did, slumming in pace, "so were you serious about suing Seraphina the other time then?"

Adrian didn't look around. Answer came crisp and cut when it did. "Yes."

Sean gave a low whistle and leaned back against the couch. "Huh. You're really going through with it."