The bathroom was a frozen battlefield—water pooling on the marble floor, steam slowly rising from their soaked bodies despite the cold spray. Riley straddled Armani in the shallow tub, knees locked tight against his ribs, palms flat on his chest pinning him down. Her dress—once black and glittering—was now a drenched, clinging ruin, translucent where it molded to every curve. Water dripped from the ends of her hair onto his face like slow accusations.
Armani stared up at her, breathing hard, eyes black with something that wasn’t just rage anymore. His hands stayed on her hips—fingers dug in deep enough to leave marks—but he wasn’t fighting her off. Not yet.
“You think this changes anything?” he said, voice low, dangerous, almost a growl. “You’re still mine, kitten. You killed for me toni
