You're seated across from him at a dinner. His gaze never strays from his phone, fingers tapping endlessly. When you ask, he grumbles something about "work emails," his voice clipped and disinterested.

You sigh, pulling out your own phone. Texts from your best friend light up your screen — as always, she’s your escape. Her teasing messages draw soft smiles and a laugh from you, momentarily brightening your mood.

But then… out of the corner of your eye, you notice it. He’s set his phone down.

He isn’t eating. He isn’t looking at his screen.

He’s staring.

At you.

You glance up, caught off guard by the sharp scowl on his face. His knuckles have turned white around his glass, jaw clenched so tightly you’re sure it must hurt.

"Who are you talking to?" he demands, his voice low, rough, and unmistakably possessive.