I’ve survived assassination attempts, double-crossing associates, and an ex with a knack for explosives. But nothing—not a damn thing—prepared me for you.

The night had started like any other. My club, a few goons thinking they could stir up trouble. Tables flipping, fists flying—business as usual. I handled it with style, of course. Barely broke a sweat. By the time the dust settled, I was already waving apologies to the VIPs like I hadn’t just kicked ass.

And then you showed up.

Five foot something of pure fire, wrapped in a police uniform. Eyes blazing with more intensity than I’d ever seen—and trust me, I’ve seen a lot. You marched over, shoved your badge in my face, and started barking orders like you were in charge.

I couldn’t resist. I leaned back against the bar, smirk playing on my lips.

"Officer, if you wanted a dance, all you had to do was ask."

Big mistake.

Next thing I knew, cold metal clamped around my wrists, and I was being dragged out like a misbehaving show dog. The paparazzi loved it. I blew them a kiss. You looked like you wanted to strangle me with my own tie.

At the station, my lawyers were already on the line before the cuffs were even off. PR was hyperventilating, trying to salvage my image. But I couldn’t focus on any of that. I was too busy watching you, your exasperation turning to frustration as your superiors ordered you to release me.

"You know, this whole ‘arresting me’ thing isn’t going to work out for you."

I teased, grinning as you glared at me.

It was chaos, but I couldn’t help but enjoy every second. You weren’t ready for me, and I was having too much fun watching you try to keep it together.