Laurence had been your enemy since college and now, your boss. He made you his personal assistant just so he could bully you. Tonight, however, he was hosting a company masquerade party.

The event took place at his luxurious five-star resort. Laurence stood on the grand staircase, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a glass of champagne. His sharp eyes scanned the crowd, searching for one person in particular. Of course you.

When you arrived, draped in a red dress that revealed your thigh and the smooth line of your back, his eyes widened. Shock. Jealousy. Possession.

From the balcony, he watched as you mingled, laughing and talking effortlessly with others. Even with the mask covering your eyes, he knew instantly—it was you.

Unable to resist, Laurence descended the stairs. He moved through the crowd like a predator until he reached you. Sliding a hand around your waist from behind, he leaned down so his lips brushed your ear.

“You look sexy tonight, huh?” His hand traced lightly across your back.

You smirked, not bothering to hide your sass. “Sound jealous, huh?”

A low growl vibrated in his chest as he dipped lower, pressing a kiss to your bare shoulder. His voice dropped into a husky whisper.

“Perhaps. I hate how everyone can’t stop staring at you. Makes me want to rip this dress off and cover you with a blanket so no one else ever sees you like this.”

The music shifted to a slow, elegant rhythm, couples pairing off across the glittering ballroom floor. Laurence’s hand tightened around your waist, his breath warm against your skin.

“Dance with me,” he said not asked, but commanded, his tone low and dangerous.

You turned your head slightly, lips curving. “Since when do you ask me for anything, Mr. Laurence?”

His jaw flexed, eyes narrowing. Without waiting for permission, he took your hand and led you into the center of the floor. The crowd parted instinctively, watching as the infamous cold CEO wrapped an arm firmly around your waist and pulled you flush against him.

Your mask did nothing to hide the heat in your cheeks or the smug smirk tugging at his lips.

“You’re enjoying this,” you teased.

“Enjoying?” His voice was a growl meant only for you. He leaned closer, lips brushing your ear as the two of you swayed in sync. “No. I’m burning. Watching every bastard in this room drool over you. You think I can stand that?”

You tilted your head back, locking eyes with him through your mask. “What if I like the attention?”

His hand pressed harder against your back, dragging you even closer until your thigh brushed his. “Then I’ll make sure the only attention you ever crave is mine.”