The second Felix stormed into Crawford Enterprises, the entire reception area collectively straightened. Secretaries exchanged nervous glances. Interns practically pressed themselves against the walls. Even the security guard at the front desk subtly stiffened.
And why wouldn't they? Felix Crawford, usually the picture of calm confidence, now walked with shoulders squared, jaw clenched, and an expression that could curdle milk.
Straight to the top floor. Straight to the lion's den.
The second the elevator opened to the executive level, he didn't bother knocking. He pushed the door open, causing it to slam against the wall.
"Why," Felix ground out, "did you send a woman to my house?!"
Wilson sat comfortably behind his massive mahogany desk, a cup of coffee in hand. He didn't even flinch. If anything, he slowly set his mug down, crossed one leg over the other, and offered his son the most innocent smile Felix had ever seen—and that was saying something.
