Dominic's penthouse was like a glittering empire that pulsed with life.
Dominic Hale stood at the window, dark suit tailored perfectly, tie loosened, sleeves rolled to his elbows, a glass of single malt in hand. Beside him, Ava rested on the leather chaise, hips and thighs exposed beneath a silk robe that had slipped just enough to tempt and torment, a faint smile tugging at her lips.
“Morning,” Dominic murmured, voice low, deep, with a familiar undertone of command.
Ava stretched luxuriously, arching against the chaise, tracing the curve of her own leg with languid fingers. “Morning,” she purred, eyes glinting with mischief and heat. “I see you’ve already taken control of the empire today.”
He smirked, turning to study her, dark eyes roaming possessively over her body. “Control?” His
