Meanwhile, Roman stormed down the hallway, his footsteps striking hard against the floor, each one echoing his frustration. His fists were clenched so tightly his knuckles ached, his thoughts a chaotic storm of anger and something he refused to name.
He headed straight for the elevator, then stopped. His gaze shifted to Estelle's door and he exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face, but his feet were already moving before he could talk himself out of it.
In a few strides, he was standing in front of her door. He knocked once, the sound firm against the wood. "Open the door, Estelle," he said, his voice rough, still carrying the remnants of his anger. He ran a hand through his hair, his chest rising and falling unevenly. "I need to talk to you before I lose my mind."
—
Inside the room, Estelle frowned, the silence of the space wrapping around her. "What does he want now?" she murmured under her breath, her brows creasing.
