CHAPTER FIFTY –

They both whirled around to find Lance standing in the doorway, his expression thunderous. Kayla's heart sank as she realized he must have overheard at least part of their heated exchange. Raya, however, showed no signs of contrition. "Ah, speak of the devil," she sneered, her gaze boring into Lance with a challenge etched into every line of her face. Lance remained unmoved, his jaw clenched and his eyes hard as flint. "I won't have you speaking to Kayla like that, not in my home." "Your home?" Raya threw back her head and laughed, the sound brittle and devoid of mirth. "Or is it just another plaything, another possession to add to your ever-growing collection?" The barb struck home, and Kayla watched as Lance's composure fractured ever so slightly. She knew how much the perception of being like his father – a cold, distant figure more concerned with material wealth than emotional bonds – haunted him. "Enough," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "You've said your piece, Raya