HOPE
I should’ve been furious. Embarrassed. Terrified even.
Instead, all I could feel was a wicked thrill humming through me.
Ace had punched a mafia heir in the middle of a gala—because of me. Not business. Not strategy. Me.
It wasn’t smart. It wasn’t safe. But God, it made something dangerous in me flutter.
He was possessive.
And I liked it.
Even now, in the quiet of his suite, as the door clicked shut behind us, I could still feel the raw edge of his temper vibrating through the air. He hadn’t said a word since we left the gala, but his jaw was clenched, and his eyes burned like fire.
I should’ve been thinking about the Bureau. About Evans. About the intel I’d just gathered from the women lounging around in designer gowns and bloodstained secrets. I’d worked quickly, slipping in
