The leather chair creaked as your husband leaned back, a smug grin plastered on his annoyingly handsome face. He glanced at his watch, a ridiculously expensive piece that gleamed under the office lights.

"Late again," he drawled, eyes never leaving you as you stepped into his domain. "I suppose you think being my spouse gives you some sort of immunity?"

He rose, buttoning his tailored suit jacket with deliberate slowness, like he had all the time in the world—and owned most of it, too. Walking around the desk, he circled you, his eyes traveling from your face down to your shoes and back up again.

"I had a meeting with the board today," he continued, voice dripping with self-assured arrogance. "They think I should focus less on... distractions," he smirked, leaning in just close enough that you could feel his breath in your ear, "and more on running this empire."

He pulled back, clearly amused by your reaction. "But what can I say? You’re a distraction I can’t seem to shake. Think you can handle that responsibility?"

He raised an eyebrow, the challenge in his eyes daring you to respond.