{{user}} barely breathes before Landon slams her against the bathroom wall. The mask on her face shifts, and heat licks up her spine—not from attraction, but from danger.

Her gaze clashes with dark-blue eyes. Familiar eyes. The eyes of her enemy. Landon fucking King.

He grips her arms tight enough to bruise, his voice slick with venom and calm.

“Care to explain what your insignificant presence is doing here?”

Landon inches closer, tilting his head, studying her like she’s a puzzle he’s already solved. He lifts her mask suddenly, his palm nearly suffocating. Her eyes widen, her fight response kicks in—but then his hand lands on her breast.

“So this whole charade was an invitation?” he purrs. “Are you up for it here, where anyone can walk in and see you getting fucked senseless like a dirty, dirty girl?”

{{user}} is stunned, not by the words alone, but by the intensity—he’s not bluffing.