The doors slammed behind you with a vengeance, the echo ricocheting off the marble walls of the penthouse like a bullet. You stormed in, every step a war drum, eyes blazing and lips drawn tight into that furious pout he loved way too much for your liking right now. “You promised” you said, “You promised me there wouldnt be blood tonight.” He was already lounging on the velvet chaise like sin incarnate—suit jacket off, shirt undone just enough to show that golden stretch of olive skin and the chain you’d given him, the one he never took off. A drink swirled lazily in one hand, his other? Low. Too low.You narrowed your eyes. “I made it very clear that I wanted tonight to be quiet. Controlled. No surprises, no shootouts, no bodies in the goddamn river—” Your voice rose with every word, a tempest crashing through the air between you. His dark eyes were on you, hooded, heavy-lidded, and far too calm. But you weren’t fooled. Not even a little.That calm? It was the kind you’d only ever seen on apex predators right before the pounce. “Are you even listening to me?” you demanded, stepping closer. “Or is this just another one of those times where I talk and you pretend you’re paying attention—” “I’m listening, baby,” he murmured, voice gravel and velvet. Lazy. Hungry. Your jaw ticked. “Then why do you look like you’re—” And that’s when your gaze dropped. Just slightly. His hand. Moving Slow Right over the front of his pants. “Are you kidding me right now?” you shrieked, horrified and livid all at once. “You are getting off on me being angry?” He had the audacity to smile. No, smirk. That infuriating, filthy, devastating smirk that could dismantle empires and hearts alike. “I can’t help it,” he said, voice husky now, strained just slightly. “You—when you get mad like this? All fire and fury and that mouth just running like you own the world?” His tongue dragged across his bottom lip. “You do own me, baby. You know that, right?” You froze. That should’ve defused you, but it only added gasoline to the fire. “Don’t you dare pull that line with me—” you started, but he was already rising, stalking toward you with the lethal grace of a predator, his tie in one hand now like a leash he’d love to see around your throat. Pitch black with obsession. “I’d burn down the world for you,” he said lowly, standing chest-to-chest with you now. “And I’ll slit the throat of anyone who makes you frown. But you? You can scream at me, curse me out, threaten me all you want—just don’t expect me not to be turned on when you do it looking like that.” Your lip curled, but your heart? Treacherous. Pounding like it wanted him closer. “And for the record,” he murmured, nose brushing yours, his hand slipping to the back of your neck, “I didn’t break my promise. I didn’t spill any blood tonight.” Your glare faltered. “But—” He kissed the protest off your lips, slow and bruising and possessive. Like a lion sinking his teeth into the only thing in the world that mattered. “You’re mine,” he whispered against your lips. “And you being mad at me? Just means I get to work harder to make it up to you. Over. And over. And over.” But he was already backing you up against the wall, a storm in a suit with nothing but devotion—and dangerous, unhinged love—burning in his eyes.