Sienna Flynn had reached her limit with the man sitting across from her. Her internal alarm bells were screaming, telling her to gather her blueprints and walk away. She planned to offer a polite excuse later that evening to decline his "dinner invitation," but for now, she maintained a fragile professional veneer.
As Tim Parle stood up, a greasy, self-satisfied smirk on his face, he extended a hand across the small table. He was already anticipating the feeling of her skin against his, a predatory glint dancing in his eyes. Sienna, acting out of a deeply ingrained sense of business etiquette, reluctantly began to reach out.
Before their fingers could meet, a large, calloused hand descended like a hawk, seizing Tim Parle's wrist in a grip of cold iron.
Tim’s brow furrowed in immediate i
