“Mr Brov, I think we should discuss business another time,” York interjects firmly, flicking his gaze at me. “Without an audience.” He makes a point at looking around the warehouse whilst I suck in a sharp breath at York’s insinuation. How dare he! How dare he talk about me like I’m a goddamn business transaction! Automatically I pull my fingers away from Dax, but he grabs them, squeezing tightly before rubbing his thumb over my knuckles. It’s a reassuring hold, and it confuses me, but it works to deflate my indignation. I don’t comment and I don’t pull away.
