~MARCUS~
I leaned back in my leather chair, phone pressed against my ear, swirling a glass of whiskey in my hand.
“Yeah, it’s me,” I said, voice dripping with authority. “Listen, Bruce… you remember that little waitress of yours? Tessa. She’s back. My woman now. She’ll be resuming tomorrow. Don’t argue.”
A pause on the other end. Then the quick, obedient stammer: “Of course, sir. Whatever you say.”
I smirked. The power tasted almost as good as the whiskey.
“Good man. Make sure she’s treated right. And Bruce…” I leaned forward, my voice dropping cold. “She belongs to me. Don’t forget that.”
I hung up, satisfied. Control was all about details. If she wanted a taste of her old life, fine. I’d give it to her—but on my terms. A cage dressed up like freedom.
~TESSA~
The alarm hadn’t even
