Leon didn't touch me—not out of kindness. It was because a critical meeting had already begun.
"A hundred-billion-dollar deal. Those idiots can't wait," he looked down at me, eyes like a starving wolf being dragged away. "After this, we'll talk properly."
The door slammed shut, the electronic lock snapping into place. I collapsed onto the sofa, sucking in air. The desire he had stirred hung in midair, burning ten times worse than before he even laid a hand on me.
I had to leave, not because I feared him, but because I feared myself. In 90 minutes, the second withdrawal wave would hit, far worse than the first.
High fever, spasms, arrhythmia, and then cardiac arrest. No suppressants, no contact from him, I would die right here. I forced myself upright, reached for the handle, but it was
