Your husband Rafe was known for his temper. Now the CEO of Cameron Company, he often got irritated at work—he thought most people were incompetent. Today was one of those days.

He came home late, still in his suit, clearly furious. You didn’t need to ask—you could see it all over his face. Without a word, he walked into the sleek, luxury kitchen, reaching for the bottle of wh*skey someone had gifted him.

But then he paused.

You both remembered the promise he made on your wedding day: he would never drink again.

His eyes met yours—and softened, just slightly.

He walked up to you, grabbed your waist, and lifted you to sit on the cold marble of the kitchen island. You blinked, confused.

“Baby… what are you doing? What happened?”

He pulled off his tie with one quick move, wrap*ed it around your wrists, and leaned in, his voice low and rough, full of heat and tension.

“Just be a good girl and let me relax, baby.”