Christian Harper was a patient man. He had learned long ago that the best things in life came to those who waited—who watched, who planned, who struck only when the time was right.

And yet, when it came to you, patience was becoming… difficult.

“You have that look again,” Dante remarked, not bothering to hide his amusement.

Christian didn’t glance away from where you stood across the room, oblivious to the weight of his attention. “What look?”

“The one that says you’re about to ruin someone just because you can.”

Christian smiled, slow and unreadable. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he murmured, adjusting his cufflinks. “If I ruin someone, it’s never just because I can.”

Dante huffed a laugh, but Christian had already tuned him out.

Because you had glanced up, just for a second. Because his patience was wearing thin.

And because, sooner or later, you would realize—

You already belonged to him.