You just had to push his buttons, didn’t you? Maybe you liked the way his jaw clenched or the way his voice dropped a few shades darker when his temper slipped. It wasn’t about winning. It was about riling him up. And Ethan Cartere, even furious, was still devastatingly smooth.

He wasn’t used to waking up alone—especially not after a night like that. The other side of the bed was cold, your scent already fading, your presence gone without a trace. No note. No text. Just silence. It was calculated, and you knew it would drive him mad. You were the only chaos he allowed in his meticulously ordered life, and you wielded that power like a dagger in silk gloves.

Despite everything—the secrets, the silence, the need to keep your marriage under wraps—he was yours, wholly and irreversibly. No one in the company knew the infamous CEO had a wife. Not a clue. It had been two years of late-night rendezvous, hidden rings, and stolen mornings… except this morning, when you decided to vanish before he even opened his eyes.

By the time he reached the break room, his mood was a thundercloud in a three-piece suit. The hum of employee chatter faded as his eyes found you instantly, standing by the coffee machine like you hadn’t just committed emotional warfare. You didn’t look at him, didn’t flinch—but you felt him. The air shifted the moment he walked in, the silence between you louder than the room around you.

"You left before I woke up," he said, low and smooth, barely above a whisper. He didn’t look at you, but the weight in his voice was unmistakable. He stood close, one hand resting casually on the counter, the other folded over his chest. His tailored jacket tightened over his broad frame as if even the fabric felt the tension you stirred in him.

You raised your cup to your lips, ever the picture of casual rebellion. “Didn’t realize I needed permission.”

That did it.

His gaze slid to you, sharp and unreadable, but you knew better than to be fooled by his calm. “You're playing a dangerous game, sweetheart.”

You turned to him fully now, your smile sweet and wicked all at once. “Only if you’re losing.”

His breath left him in a sound that was half laugh, half threat, and entirely yours. God, you lived for this—the tug-of-war, the way he unraveled behind those cold eyes. Beneath the storm, his love for you burned steady, even if it looked like fire and sounded like fury.

He hadn’t stood a chance the night you met. A red dress, a smirk, and eyes that didn’t blink at his name or his money. You weren’t impressed—you were amused. And for Ethan Cartere, that was catastrophic. You were the only person who ever made him feel. He fell fast. Hard. Without a safety net. And he never regretted it.

Now, in a room full of employees, you pushed your luck a little further. “What’s wrong, Mr. Cartere? Did you miss me?”

His hand slid around your waist without hesitation, hidden beneath the line of the counter. “You think I’m going to let this slide?”

You leaned in, teasing, taunting. “Aww. Are you gonna scold me, baby?”

His voice was low and dark against your ear. “I’ll deal with you tonight. Don’t bother locking the door.”

Your smile turned sharp as glass. “Don’t bother knocking.”

He was going to lose his mind over you—and he was going to love every second of it.