Chapter 75

Angela POV

His eyes narrowed slightly, studying my face with the intensity he usually reserved for complex business deals.

"Is everything alright?"

"I'm just tired," I lied smoothly. "It's been a long day. And with Victoria back... I think we should try to appear more..."

I added softly, before he could respond. "united. At least in front of the family."

Something shifted in Sean's expression - a softening around the eyes that I hadn't seen in weeks.

"Of course, you're right about Victoria. She's always been particularly... perceptive."

I managed a small smile, grateful he'd understood without further explanation. "Thank you. I know it's short notice, but-"

Before I could finish, Sean's expression changed suddenly, his eyes fixed on my hand where I'd unconsciously gripped the edge of his desk.

"You're hurt." His voice carried a sharp edge of concern as he rose from his chair.

I tried to pull my hand back, but he was faster, catching my wrist with surprising gentleness. His fingers were warm against my skin as he turned my palm upward, revealing the raw scrapes.

"It's nothing," I said quickly. "I just... took a small fall earlier."

"A fall?" Sean's thumb traced the edge of my palm, careful to avoid the abraded skin. "These look fresh. When did this happen?"

"This afternoon. Really, Sean, it's fine-"

But he was already reaching for his phone. "Michael," he said when his assistant answered, "bring up the first aid kit from the medical office. And some ice."

"You don't need to-"

"Sit." His tone brooked no argument as he guided me to the leather sofa near the window. The city lights were beginning to twinkle to life beyond the glass, Manhattan preparing for its nightly transformation.

Michael appeared moments later with a well-equipped medical kit and an ice pack. Sean dismissed him with a nod, then settled beside me on the sofa, opening the kit with practiced efficiency.

"This might sting," he warned, holding an antiseptic wipe. His touch was surprisingly gentle as he cleaned the scrapes, his breath warm against my skin as he bent over his task.

"Remember when you used to patch me up after hockey practice?" he asked, his voice soft with memory. "Junior year, that championship game against Westbrook?"

I did remember. Sean had taken a brutal check into the boards, emerging with a split lip and a fierce grin of triumph. I'd been the one to clean him up afterward, lecturing him about unnecessary risks while he just smiled that infuriating, blood-stained smile.

"You were always too reckless," I murmured, watching as he carefully applied antibiotic ointment to my palms.

"And you were always there to put me back together." His fingers lingered on my wrist, just above where the mystery attacker had grabbed me. "Angela..."

The softness in his voice made me look up, finding his face much closer than I'd expected.

The office lights caught the green of his eyes, reminding me of summer storms over the Atlantic.

For a moment, I could almost forget the complications between us-Christina, the marriage contract, the baby I still couldn't tell him about.

His free hand came up to cup my cheek, and I felt myself leaning into the touch despite every rational argument against it. His thumb brushed across my lower lip, and I knew with absolute certainty that he was going to kiss me.

The sharp trill of his phone shattered the moment.

Christina's name flashed across the screen, and reality came crashing back. I pulled away, gathering the scattered pieces of my composure as Sean stared at the phone with an unreadable expression.

"You should answer that," I said, standing perhaps too quickly. "Your girlfriend might need something urgent."

"Angela-"

"Thank you for the first aid." I managed a smile that felt brittle even to me. "Shall we head home? Victoria will be expecting us for dinner."

The ride down in the private elevator was silent, the tension from our almost-kiss still crackling in the air.

Sean stood closer than strictly necessary, his shoulder occasionally brushing mine as the car descended.

Each point of contact sent little sparks of awareness through me, making it hard to maintain my careful mask of indifference.

When his phone rang for the third time, Sean finally answered it. Christina's voice, thick with tears, carried clearly in the confined space of the elevator.

"Sean... where have you been? I've been trying to reach you..." Her voice trembled with carefully crafted vulnerability. "The doctor says the scar might be permanent..."

I tuned out her words, my mind suddenly catching on a detail that had been nagging at me all afternoon. The man who'd attacked me at the crosswalk-why had he seemed so familiar?

Then it hit me with the force of a physical blow.

I'd seen him before, at Christina's party！

He had been part of the security detail, wearing an earpiece and watching the crowd with those same cold, calculating eyes. I distinctly remembered him escorting Christina home at the end of the night.

My blood ran cold as the pieces started falling into place.