You were halfway through taking off her earrings when she heard the unmistakable sound of something breaking downstairs.

You sighed, rubbing your temple before heading toward the living room. “Roarke—”

“I’ll replace it.”

You paused in the doorway, taking in the scene. A shattered glass on the floor. Roarke standing by the bar, looking entirely too calm.

You folded her arms. “What happened?”

He picked up his drink—his new drink—and took a slow sip. “I had a visitor.”

You narrowed her eyes. “A visitor?”

“Mm.” He set his glass down. “One of your opposing counsel’s associates stopped by.”

You stiffened. “And?”

Roarke’s smirk was slow, edged with something dark. “And I made sure they understood exactly how unwise it would be to continue interfering with your case.”

You exhaled sharply. “I told you I had it handled.”

“You do,” he agreed. “But I prefer they don’t waste your time in the first place.”

Youstared at him, jaw tight. “Roarke, you can’t just—”

He stepped closer, tilting his head. “What?”

“You can’t keep doing this.”

Roarke brushed his fingers along her wrist, his touch maddeningly light. “And if I said the same about you working late every night? Ignoring your own needs for the sake of your clients?”