Page 9 of Set In Stone

After leaving my office, I made my way to the elevator that would take me to the lobby of my building. During the descent, I contemplated how I should finesse Krystina into my way ofthinking.

I could simply refuse togo.

I frowned, knowing that wasn’t the solution. The problem was, my usual patient diplomacy was failing me. I relied heavily on that patience to achieve success. Yet, with Krystina, it seemed to fail me at every turn. The woman, as much as I loved her, drove me completely insane. Nothing ever seemed to be in order whenever she wasinvolved.

My temper was another concern. It flared more often than not during our appointments. To me, that was a very dangerous sign. The blood that ran through my veins was poisonous, and I couldn’t afford to lose control. Not again. I already lost it once with Krystina, and I couldn’t allow a repeatoccurrence.

Images of her facial expressions from that emotionally exhausting day on my yacht came to the forefront of my mind. It was the day I told Krystina about my past. I practically choked on every word I uttered that night, despite knowing she needed the truth about my parents. I had been wound tight, and the anxiety caused me tosnap.

“Alexander, you’re hurtingme!”

Her words were a constant echo in my dreams while I slept. Her eyes, horror stricken as my hands encircled her throat. Her beautiful lips, twisted into a grimace of pain. Yet, even when the sunrise came to chase away the darkness, the memory of what I had done still hauntedme.

I cringed from the recollection. Even though it happened months ago, at times it felt as if it were onlyyesterday.

Forget it. It’s in the past. There’s no changingit.

I shook my head to clear it. I learned an important lesson that day, one that I wouldn’t soon forget. I was reminded of the many fundamental reasons why I had to maintain order and control in everything that surrounded me. However, these therapy sessions almost felt like a power exchange. I needed to put an end to them. Too much was atstake.

When I reached the ground floor, I exited the elevator and walked down the corridor toward the lobby. I spotted Krystina near the main doors. Her back was to me, and she appeared to be looking down at her phone. My eyes skimmed up her legs, past the hem of her skirt, to the delicious view of her behind in the custom-tailoredsuit.

Perfection.

The corners of my mouth turned up in appreciation. Setting her up with my personal tailor for her business attire was a small stroke of genius on my part. While Krystina had good taste and looked stunning in everything she wore, my tailor had sculpted skirts and pantsuits that fit her flawlessly. Nevertheless, I couldn’t wait to get her home where I could rip it off. I imagined pushing the hem of her skirt up to her slender waist and wrapping those lithe thighs around my hips. My balls tightened as I thought about burying my length inside her, filling her with myseed.

Oh, you’ll be begging for it tonight, MissCole.

As I came up behind her, she must have sensed my presence because she turned to face me. Never one to ignore her beauty, I took in her face. She had the most elegant jawline, hard yet soft. Her full lips never failed to draw me in, and it was difficult not to imagine them wrapped around my dick. She looked as beautiful as always, but she was also pale and a little drawn. Faint circles shadowed the underside of her deep browneyes.

Damnit!

Not wanting to stir up another argument about the long hours she kept this week, I suppressed a frown and threw her a casual smile instead. Wrapping an arm around her waist, I pulled her close and placed a gentle kiss on herforehead.

“Ready to go, angel?” Iasked.

“Ready when you are,” she said and smiled in return. However, it didn’t quite meet her eyes. Krystina’s emotions were often written plainly on her face and I could read her like a book. Her forced smile wasobvious.

She’s just as tense as I am over these damnappointments.

To me, it was just another reason we shouldn’t be having them. Choosing not to voice my thoughts, I stepped back and took hold of her elbow to lead her out of Cornerstone Tower toward the parking garage. When we reached the deep metallic blue Tesla, I waited for her to properly fasten her seatbelt before pulling out of the parkingspace.

Once we began the short drive to Tumblin’s office, I noticed that she was unusually quiet. The only sound that could be heard in the car was from the radio, a sultry tune by Bishop Briggs. Another day, I may have suggested that I add the song to one of the playlists I made for her a few months earlier, but today wasn’t that day. Her uncharacteristic silence told me something was bothering her. This was more than just tension over theappointment.

I glanced in her direction. She was staring out the passenger window of the Tesla as I braked for a redlight.

“You have that look again,” I toldher.

“Whatlook?”

“Like you did this morning. Lost in thought,” I remarkedoffhandedly.

“I was just thinking about our meeting with the builder next week. I’m curious to see the architects plans for the property in Westchester,” shecommented.

I noticed that her tone lacked any sort of excitement and sounded somewhat flat. I also noted how she referred to it in a very impersonal way. She spoke of it like it was just a parcel of land, as if it wasn’tourhome that we were building. It was disappointing and troubling. She should have shown more enthusiasm about building our home together, but she seemed detached whenever the subject cameup.

“Yes, I’m looking forward to you seeing the plans too. I think you’ll like my ideas and what he’s drawn up to implement them,” I murmured absently, and I observed her pallor once more. “Are you feeling alright,angel?”

“I’m fine. Just a little tired. I would kill for some caffeine right about now. Do you think we have time to stop for coffee?” sheasked.

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