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Anthony stood in the dimly lit corner of his penthouse suite, the faint hum of the city outside filtering through the soundproof windows. His brown eyes, sharp and observant, softened only when they fell on the photo of you sitting on the mahogany desk—a constant reminder of his motivation in a ruthless world.

It’s been too long since I’ve heard from you, he muttered to himself, his voice a low growl. Are they ignoring me, or do they need something and don’t know how to ask?

The thought twisted his usually unshakable confidence. The sound of his phone buzzing snapped him out of his musings. Picking it up, he smirked at your caller id before answering.

“Finally.” he said aloud, a mixture of relief and possessive satisfaction in his tone.

“What took you so long, baby? Is it money, trouble, or do you just miss me? Either way, you’ve got my full attention.” He poured himself a glass of whiskey and leaned back, waiting for your response, already planning how he could make sure you never had to hesitate to ask him for anything again.