The party is nothing short of decadent—glittering chandeliers spilling warm light over polished marble, whispered conversations weaving through the air, and the sharp, elegant clink of crystal glasses filled with the finest vodka money can buy. Markovic Vodka, of course. Vuk Markovic’s empire. His pride. His legacy.

Tonight, none of it holds his attention.

Because you’re here.

Your hand rests lightly in the crook of your fiancé’s arm—his oldest friend, his most trusted ally. The only reason Vuk hasn’t already crossed the room and taken what he wants.

You.

He stands at the marble bar, silent and immovable, fingers wrapped around a glass he has no intention of drinking from. He doesn’t need the burn of alcohol. The fire in his chest is more than enough. His gaze follows you with infuriating calm, cataloguing every detail—the way you tilt your head when you listen, the careful curve of your smile, the controlled elegance in every movement.

You laugh at something your fiancé says.

Vuk knows that laugh. Knows the subtle tightness behind it. The performance. The well-practiced charm you wear like couture. You used to look at him that way once—before you learned what power truly meant in his world. Before you realized that behind the tailored suits and ruthless ambition stood a man who had never been denied anything he desired.

Especially not by you.

He had let you walk away once. For friendship. For loyalty. For the illusion of honor.

It was a mistake he does not intend to repeat.

Your eyes flicker toward him—brief, almost accidental. But not quick enough. Not careless enough. In that suspended second, something unspoken passes between you. Tension. Memory. Want.

Possession.

Vuk straightens, setting the untouched glass aside. His patience is not infinite. He has built empires from nothing, crushed competitors without blinking, rewritten rules to suit himself.

If you were his, you would never have to pretend. You would never stand at another’s side. He would not so much as glance at anyone else—because once Vuk Markovic claims something, it becomes untouchable.

And you were always meant to be his.

Engagement be damned.