Malina didn’t have to take a glance at his face. She knew that scent anywhere. She’d dreamt of it. Literally.
“What are you doing in my office?” she murmured, without hesitation.
Rafe swiped the loose ash that had fallen on the windowsill, and stood to his feet. “You look tired. Up late last night?”
She placed her brief case on the desk. Her stomach groaned. Not a hungry gown, oh no. A sick one. One that left you twitching in bed. She flinched, before finally looking in to his eyes.
“You look nice.” She did look nice. A red lip suited her well. Although. hearing it from her abuser didn’t settle.
“What do you want?” Rafe crossed his arms.
“I’m here to discuss the whereabouts of my son.”