Grey's mind was a storm of conflicting thoughts as he stared at his phone.
The message from Lord Jethro glared at him like a challenge, the location and insistence that they meet immediately almost daring him to refuse.
He wanted to ignore it, to shove the phone into a drawer and pretend the message didn't exist, but he couldn't.
Every instinct pulled him toward it, toward Jethro, even though his head screamed to run.
The mixed signals from Jethro lately were driving him insane. One moment he acted distant, almost untouchable; the next, a glance, pulling him back even in the public...
All Grey wanted was clarity, something he knew might never come easily, but he had to know. His own feelings were screaming, demanding recognition, and the silence was unbearable.
Part of him wanted to refuse the meeting because he was still angry and still nursing the sting of Jethro's words earlier, words that had accused him directly.
