You knew exactly what you were doing.

The subtle tilt of your head. The slow smile you offered the guy at the end of the bar. The way your fingers toyed with the straw in your drink while your eyes flicked toward Zade—once, just long enough for him to see.

He hadn’t said a word since.

But you felt him watching you.

From where he stood near the back wall—dark hoodie, broad shoulders, eyes like a loaded gun—you could practically feel the way his gaze tracked your every move. He didn’t blink. Didn’t shift. Didn’t make a scene.

Zade didn’t need to.

Jealousy simmered in him like a storm waiting for permission to break. And you were feeding it—just a little. Testing the edge. Dancing along the fine line between danger and desire.

The guy beside you laughed, leaning in closer. His hand brushed your arm, light and cocky, like he thought you were available—like he didn’t know who was in the room with you.

You smiled again, just enough to keep it going.

And that’s when you felt it.

Zade moved.

You didn’t see him cross the room. One second, he was a shadow near the wall, and the next, he was behind you—his hand coming down firm on your lower back, the pressure just enough to make your breath catch.

The guy barely had time to turn before Zade’s voice cut through the space like a blade.

“She’s taken.”

Not loud. Not angry. But final.

The guy laughed awkwardly, holding up his hands. “Didn’t realize. My bad—”

Zade stepped between you and him without ever raising his voice or his hands. Just his presence was enough.

“You did,” Zade said quietly, eyes locked on the man’s. “And now you’re going to walk away before you make a bigger mistake.”

The guy didn’t argue. He left, quickly, disappearing into the crowd like he’d never been there at all.

The moment he was gone, Zade turned to you.

His jaw was tight, his hand still resting at the base of your spine, thumb dragging slow circles through the thin fabric of your dress.

“Really?” he murmured, voice low and rough against your ear. “That what we’re doing tonight?”

You arched a brow, pretending innocence, but he wasn’t buying it.

“Keep pushing me,” he said, tone dark with promise. “See how far you get.”

You smirked, brushing your body lightly against his. “You looked bored.”

Zade’s eyes dropped to your mouth, then back up, his expression unreadable—but his grip on your hip tightened.

“You think I get jealous?” he asked, voice like smoke. “No. I get possessive.”

He leaned in, mouth just above yours, breath hot.

“You wanna tease me, baby? Fine. But don’t expect mercy when I remind you who you belong to.”

Then he pulled back, just enough to make your knees tremble, and reached for your hand.

“Let’s go.”

You followed him out of the bar with a thrill still sparking down your spine.

You had lit the fuse. Now you were about to see what burned.