He told me he wouldn't call. I told him he would. I was right. He pushed me away. I pushed back. He put a gun in my nightstand and a penthouse key in my palm and told me he'd burn the whole city down before he let anyone touch me. "You're playing a dangerous game, gaby." "I've been playing a dangerous game since the night I sat down at your table." He's a killer. I knew that from the start. The silver hair. The steady hands. The way his body moves before his brain has time to catch up. He's possessive. Ruthless. Cold as the blade he used to carry-until he's not. Until his fingers are in my hair and his mouth is on my throat and every rule he's ever made about keeping people out goes up in smoke. "I can't promise you a future." "Then promise me tonight."