Dominic’s POV
I couldn’t wait to go home to him.
The city always disgusts me most at rush hour. Horns, exhaust, chaos.
I sat in the back of the Bentley, glass of scotch in hand, the amber liquid burning as much as the anger still coiled tight from the boardroom. Another day wasted in meetings with men who thought they were sharks, circling, snapping at scraps.
Tomorrow they’ll wake and realize they’ve been eaten alive.
It should have satisfied me. It didn’t.
Because all I could think about was Ethan.
The man had a way of cracking into me without even trying. His mouth, his defiance, the way he trembled when I pushed him too far yet still came crawling back for more.
He was fire disguised as surrender, and I couldn’t get enough. The thought of him waiting for me in the penthouse,
