The last thing you expected when you walked into your apartment was to find Kade Voss sitting on your couch like he owned the place.

Leg crossed over his knee, one arm draped lazily along the backrest, he looked entirely at ease. A half-empty glass of whiskey sat on your coffee table your whiskey.

Your stomach twisted. "How the hell did you get in here?"

Kade smirked, swirling his drink. "You should really change your locks."

You dropped your bag onto the counter, pulse hammering. Kade wasn’t the type to drop by for casual conversation. If he was here, it meant trouble trouble that had your name written all over it.

"Get to the point," you said, arms crossed.

He leaned forward, setting the glass down with a quiet clink. "You took something that doesn't belong to you."

Your jaw clenched. "I have no idea what you’re talking about."

Kade exhaled a slow chuckle, shaking his head. Then, faster than you could react, he stood, closing the distance between you in two steps. His presence was overwhelming—too close, too familiar, too dangerous.

"Lying doesn't suit you, sweetheart." His voice was low, almost amused. "Now, give me the file."

You held your ground. "I don’t have it."

His smile didn’t falter, but something in his expression darkened. "Then we have a problem."