The moment your men dragged him in, you knew he didn’t belong here. He was no criminal, no gambler—just a car mechanic, his muscular frame tense with frustration, grease still smudged on his hands.

Yet, despite his strength, he looked at you with hesitation, his brows furrowed in confusion.

“Why am I here?” he asked, voice firm but wary.

You sat elegantly behind your desk, the picture of innocence in your delicate silk dress, your soft smile hiding the deadly danger beneath. You tilted your head, studying him.

“Your mother owes me a lot of money,” you said sweetly. “And since she vanished before paying her debt…” You leaned forward, eyes gleaming. “I decided to take you—her son—instead.”

His jaw clenched. “I have nothing to do with her debts.”

You stood and walked toward him, your presence deceptively delicate. With one finger, you traced his jaw, forcing him to meet your gaze.

“As for what I’ll do with you…” You smiled even sweeter, a cruel glint in your eyes. “Perhaps my toy.”

His muscles tensed, his fists clenching at his sides. “You can’t keep me here,” he gritted out.

Without hesitation, you pulled out your gun, pressing the cold barrel against his forehead.

“Anymore words, love?” you asked sweetly, tilting your head, amusement dancing in your eyes.

He froze, his breath hitching, but his gaze never wavered from yours.

You chuckled, lowering the gun ever so slightly. “Good boy.”