TERESA'S P.O.V.
The office felt like a pressure cooker, and Lucian was the heat source threatening to blow the lid off. Thirty minutes had passed since the incident, but he was still simmering with anger.
Lucian had been fine earlier, we even made some light jokes about Monica but then Kenneth came into the office and whispered something to him and that was when he went nuts. His jaw was clenched, his shoulders taut, and the air around him practically crackled with his frustration.
"Lucian," I called gently, placing my hand on his arm. "What's the matter? You need to calm down."
"I am calm," he snapped, though his tone and the tick in his jaw said otherwise. His sightless eyes seemed to pierce the room, as if daring anyone to cross him. Lucian wasn't just mad—he was livid.
"Lucian, you've paced a groove into the floor," I said, trying for levity. "At this rate, we'll need to renovate."
