He had worked for me for five years.

He did nothing without my direct authorization.

“And what did Marcus say?” I asked.

“He said he had to check with the principal owners,” Graham said, rolling his eyes.

“Typical corporate red tape.”

“Some faceless hedge fund guys who probably don’t even know where Dallas is on a map.”

“They don’t understand the prestige of having a Ralston tenant.”

“They should be paying me to stay in that building.”

He leaned over the desk again, his face inches from mine.

“So I don’t have time for your stubbornness, Jocelyn.”

“Call my mother.”

“Tell her you made a mistake.”

“Tell her Hazel will be at the deportment class on Monday.”

I looked into his eyes.

They were bloodshot from stress and lack of sleep.

I could see the faint tremor in his jaw.

He was drowning in debt, and he was trying to bully me to feel strong.

“I will think about it,” I said.

“No,” he said, his voice dropping to a low, threatening hiss.

“You won’t think about it.”

“You will do it now.”