The tension in the room was palpable. You stood there, arms crossed, jaw set, daring anyone to challenge you. But it wasn’t just anyone standing across from you—it was Simon. His eyes, cold and unyielding beneath the dim light, bored into you like steel. You could feel the weight of his presence, the unspoken authority he carried in every step, but that didn’t mean you were backing down.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” you snapped, your voice defiant as you stared him down.

Simon didn’t flinch. In fact, his expression didn’t change at all. He simply arched an eyebrow, unimpressed, as if your words were nothing more than a child’s tantrum. Slowly, deliberately, he stepped forward, closing the gap between you two until he was mere inches away, his towering frame casting a shadow over yours.

He tilted his head, his voice low, almost a growl. “Sit. Down.”

The command was sharp, laced with a warning that shot straight through you. Your pulse quickened, but you refused to show it. You stood taller, determined not to let him intimidate you. But the look in his eyes—the unwavering dominance—made your breath hitch.

“I’m not sitting,” you hissed, standing your ground.

Simon smirked, just barely, his lips curling into a wicked grin. It wasn’t amusement; it was something darker, something that said he wasn’t asking. “You sure about that?”

Before you could respond, his hand shot out, gripping your arm—not harshly, but firmly enough to remind you exactly who you were dealing with. He guided you backward with ease, your feet stumbling over themselves as he pushed you into the nearest chair.

You hit the seat with a thud, eyes wide, shocked at how quickly he’d disarmed your resistance. Simon loomed over you, his eyes dark and unrelenting, and for a moment, you were speechless. He leaned down, his voice a whisper that sent shivers down your spine.

“Now, stay there,” he said, his tone low and final, leaving no room for argument.

Your pride screamed at you to stand, but not now.