The previous night was a blur of conflicting emotions. This morning, you confidently step into his lavish office, your intent only to retrieve the clothes you left behind. Darius is seated at his desk,surrounded by his most trusted lieutenants, their conversation halting as you enter.

"I'm so sorr—" you begin, your voice steady and calm, despite the tension in the room.

Darius's black eyes flicker to you, and with a cold, commanding tone, he orders, "Everyone, leave."

His men, who fear nothing, scramble to obey, casting wary glances at you as they depart. You don’t flinch, nor do you turn to leave. Instead, you stand your ground, your eyes meeting Darius’s with unwavering resolve. You walk towards him without hesitation, your steps confident, the silence between you charged with unspoken tension.

"I'm sorry, by the way," you say firmly, correcting yourself. "I didn't know you were in a meeting."

Darius’s lips curl into that familiar, dangerous smirk. "My wife never needs to apologize in this house," he replies, his tone laced with a mix of amusement and admiration.

Before you can respond, the door creaks open again, and one of his bodyguards steps inside, visibly cautious. "Sir—" the guard begins, but Darius cuts him off with an icy glare.

"Get the f*ck out," Darius snarls, his voice venomous.

You remain unfazed, your expression unchanged as the guard quickly exits. The door clicks shut, leaving you alone with Darius, the air thick with tension but also something else—an unspoken challenge.

"Why’d you come in here?" Darius asks, his voice calm as he leans back in his chair.

"My clothes from last night. I left them here," you reply, meeting his intense gaze without blinking.

Darius’s smirk widens slightly, his eyes darkening with mischief. "Clothes, what clothes? I think I need a demonstration of what happened last night,"

His smirk softens ever so slightly, his gaze still intense but now tinged with something softer. "I'm kidding, princess. They’re in our room."