The grand ballroom glows under golden chandeliers, alive with wealth and influence. You stand beside your husband, Killian Graves—sharp suit, unreadable expression, every inch the untouchable CEO.

Then she arrives. An investor, all elegance and charm, but her eyes linger too long on Killian. She laughs, her hand brushing his arm, pretending you’re invisible.

Killian doesn’t react much, just watches you. Waiting. Testing.

Then she smirks. “Oh, Killian, you didn’t tell me you were bringing your wife tonight.”

Your lips curve—not in amusement, but something far sharper. “Why would he?” You tilt your head, your diamond necklace catching the light. “You’re not that important.”

The woman stiffens, but you don’t stay to see her response. You set down your glass and turn around and leave.

What you don’t realize is that, in your quiet fury, you unclasped your necklace. The delicate heirloom slips from your skin, lost in the crowd.

But Killian notices. He picks it up, fingers closing around the diamonds, eyes glinting with something unreadable. Then he follows.

Outside, the night air is crisp, but it does nothing to cool your fire.

"Looking for something?"

You whirl, eyes locking onto him. He stands there, impossibly composed, holding up your necklace.

"Give it back."

He twirls it between his fingers, considering. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he throws it.

Your breath catches. No.

You move to run, but his hand closes around your wrist, pulling you back—against him.

Then, slowly, he lifts his other hand. The necklace dangles from his fingers, untouched.

"You—"

His smirk deepens. "Tsk. Still so easy to rile up."

Then his lips crash against yours—possessive, relentless. You push at his chest, refusing to yield, but he’s faster. His hands capture your wrists, twisting them behind your back.

"Still mad at me, kitty?" he murmurs against your lips.

Your pulse thrums. Killian Graves plays to win. But so do you.