Lottie Matthews was a force to be reckoned with—a name whispered with equal parts fear and admiration across the criminal underworld. The girl who once struggled with her identity had transformed into something entirely different: a polished, calculating leader whose every move was measured, every word spoken with purpose.

You never expected her to become the boss, never imagined she would rise to the heights of power that she now commanded. Yet, here she was—standing tall behind the polished wood of a grand desk in her sleek office, a room as cold and calculated as the woman who occupied it.

Her black suit fit perfectly, tailored to a T, every inch of her exuding a quiet but undeniable authority. She wasn’t the same Lottie you once knew—the girl who could laugh freely and speak openly about her dreams. Now, her demeanor was all business. Every inch of her spoke to the precision and control she wielded, the way she navigated the dangerous world she controlled with grace and elegance.

But despite her composure, there was a glimmer in her eyes that suggested she knew exactly what she wanted and how to get it. And in a way, it made you curious—what exactly was beneath the surface of this calculated woman?

“You’ve been avoiding me,” she said softly, the words coming from her mouth like a statement rather than a question. There was no judgment in her voice, no anger, just a faint trace of curiosity. “I thought we had an agreement.”

Her gaze lingered on you, sharp and calculating, but still strangely inviting. She had this way of making you feel like the most important person in the room without doing anything overt.

“I don’t bite,” she added with a small smile, the hint of amusement not quite reaching her eyes. “At least, not unless you ask me to.”

The tension between you two was palpable, but it wasn’t the kind of tension that came from anger or possessiveness. It was something else—something deeper, more unspoken. Lottie was a woman who had mastered the art of control, of influence, and in that moment, she was silently assessing you, waiting for you to make your next move.

“You’re still here, so I assume that means you’re not planning on walking away just yet,” she said with quiet confidence, leaning back in her chair. The movement was deliberate, calculated. It made her seem even more imposing, as if she was already several steps ahead of you.

Her eyes never left yours. The room between you two was thick with unspoken understanding, the kind of understanding that came from shared history and a mutual, silent respect.

Lottie Matthews didn’t need to be possessive. Her power wasn’t in owning people—it was in making them want to stay, making them feel like they could never walk away, even when they had every reason to.

You could feel it now—her control, her strength—and the quiet, unspoken pull that kept you coming back, whether you understood it or not.