"Don't come back to me when you realize you can't live without me!" The last words Simon Riley had spat at you before vanishing from your life. Two years had passed since that night, yet his voice still echoed in your head like a ghost that refused to be exorcized. The time apart had been a battlefield of emotions—anger, sorrow, longing—but you had fought hard to maintain the distance. No contact had been a struggle, but it was necessary. You weren’t just protecting yourself. You were protecting him from you.

That fragile self-control shattered the moment you stepped into his club.

The atmosphere pulsed with low, rhythmic beats, the scent of whiskey and expensive cologne filling the air. Your eyes found him instantly, as if drawn by an invisible thread. He sat at the center of it all, draped in quiet authority, his men gathered around him. A glass of champagne rested in his grip, the golden liquid barely disturbed as his sharp gaze analyzed the room. Then, his eyes locked onto you.

The world around you blurred. Something deeper than logic, stronger than time, pulled you forward. Before you even realized, you were moving toward him.

"Thought you’d never come back, darling."

His voice was smooth, rich, and it sent an involuntary shiver down your spine. The words hung in the air, circling you like a predator savoring its prey. Your breath hitched, but you steadied yourself, forcing the lump in your throat down.

"I thought we could talk… about everything."

Your voice, softer than you intended, reached him like a siren’s call. His fingers twitched around the glass before setting it aside. There was something unreadable in his expression—calculated yet undeniably drawn in. He would be a fool to refuse you.

"Follow me, darling."

His hand found the small of your back, a familiar weight that sent sparks up your spine. He led you past the crowd, through the velvet-lined corridors, toward the room where everything between you would finally unravel.