Jaxton's strides were long and urgent, but not nearly fast enough to match the chaos storming through his mind. His polished shoes hit the marble floor of the foyer with sharp, deliberate thuds as he entered the house, his breathing uneven, his face set in stone.
Inside, he was anything but calm.
A thousand thoughts raced through him, each one darker than the last. His jaw was clenched so tightly that it hurt, and the vein near his temple throbbed with growing pressure. He had never felt this way before, not for any woman. Not even close. Not like this.
As he reached the stairs, his pace quickened until he was practically bounding up them, two steps at a time.
At the top landing, the housekeeper stood rigid in front of the bedroom door, her hands clasped together, her eyes were red-rimmed and she was anxious from pacing back and forth. The moment she caught sight of Jaxton, her composure cracked. Her lips trembled as if she were about to burst into tears.
