“Meet me at my office. Right now!”
Hearing the rough, dangerous edge in Magnus’s voice, it was painfully clear to Gregory that something had gone wrong.
“Alright,” Gregory replied.
Magnus shoved the phone into his pocket, jaw tight, and got into the car. The door slammed shut with force. A second later, the engine roared to life, and he pulled out sharply, tires screeching slightly against the pavement as he drove straight back to the office.
By the time Gregory arrived half an hour later, the CEO’s office lights were already on.
Magnus was lying on the couch.
One arm was bent behind his head, the other resting loosely on his stomach. One leg was tilted up while the other stretched flat across the leather. His eyes were closed, but the tension in his face was clear. His jaw was clenched so tight the muscles twitched. A faint crease sat permanently between his brows.
It was obvious he hadn’t rested even for a second before coming here. The weight of the day was still on his shoulders, but the anger burning under his skin was stronger than the exhaustion.
Gregory stepped inside quietly and shut the door behind him.
Magnus didn’t open his eyes.
Gregory approached the single couch and casually leaned against the armrest, sitting sideways with one hip resting against it, his legs stretched forward. He studied Magnus for a moment before speaking.
“What happened?”
Only then did Magnus open his eyes.
They were dark.
Dangerously dark.
“Tell me, what kind of marriage is this?” he snapped angrily, “My mother kept insisting for me to get married. Is this how it works? I don’t even get to have dinner in my own damn house!”
Gregory frowned. “Why didn’t you have dinner?”
Magnus let out a sharp breath, frustration heavy in his voice as he dragged a hand through his hair, messing up the strands.
“Sophia got pissed and stormed off,” he muttered. “One second she was fine—ready to have dinner with me. The next, she tore herself out of my hand and ran to the bedroom like I was about to kill her if she stayed there another second.”
Gregory’s brows knitted together in confusion. But at the corner of his lips, a faint, knowing smile appeared.
“Even if she refused to have dinner,” he said slowly. “Why didn’tyoueat? You could’ve just eaten.”
Magnus stared at him as if he had said something completely insane.
“Are you out of your mind?” he snapped. “If she didn’t eat, why would I eat without her?”
The idea itself seemed offensive.
Gregory sighed loudly, rubbing a hand down his face.
“Why wouldn’t you have dinner without her? It’s not like she feeds you with her own hands. You have two perfectly functional hands. Sit down. Eat. There are ten maids in that house ready to serve you. All you have to do is move your mouth.”
Magnus answered, his shoulders rigid.
“I cannot have dinner without my wife,” he said through clenched teeth. “We eat together, or I don’t eat. Why would I eat alone?”
Gregory stared at him, genuinely baffled.
“You make no sense to me,” he muttered, rubbing his forehead in frustration. “You’re acting like—”
