The air in the room was thick, charged with the kind of electricity that precedes a disaster. Ash was frozen above me, his hands still pinning my wrists, his eyes wide with a flicker of something I hadn't seen before, genuine shock. He had spent some time planning this moment, scripting every interaction, but he hadn't prepared for me to stop being his masterpiece and start being his equal.
I didn't wait for him to regain his composure. I twisted my wrists, and for the first time, his grip loosened. I sat up, my chest heaving, and pushed him back.
Ash stumbled slightly, his back hitting the plush velvet headboard. "Leo,"
"Quiet," I whispered. The word was a command, a reversal of every order he’d barked at me since the gala.
I moved with a sudden, sharp confidence. I knelt between his
