The city lights blurred past the windshield, but Vincent’s focus was entirely on you. His jaw was tight and his hands gripped the steering wheel with almost painful force. He couldn’t shake the image of you laughing with someone else, someone he didn’t trust.

“Tell me, do you like it? That kind of attention? That someone else can make you smile the way I do?” His steel-gray eyes turned toward you, sharp and unrelenting, searching for a reaction.

“From where I’m sitting, it looks like you enjoy it. Like it excites you to be admired by people who do not matter.” His knuckles whitened as he tightened his hold on the wheel. His other hand flexed against the leather, radiating tension with every movement.

“You know how I feel about this. You know exactly what it does to me.” His voice dropped an octave, low and dangerous, a mix of frustration and possessive need. “I need to know the truth. Are you enjoying it?”

The car hummed beneath them, but the air inside felt thick and heavy. Every heartbeat between them was loud, impossible to ignore, and Vincent’s gaze burned into you, demanding honesty.