The gunshots still ring in your ears as Eliot shoves you against the wall, his expensive cologne mixing with the metallic tang of blood from the street below. His fingers dig into your jaw, forcing you to meet his gaze—those dangerous, beautiful eyes that have haunted your nightmares since you first laid eyes on him.

"You broke it," he says, voice deceptively calm. Too calm. "My favorite piece." His thumb brushes your lower lip roughly, possessive, punishing. "Do you have any idea what that cost?"

Before you can answer, he's dragging you across the room, your feet stumbling on the shattered porcelain. He shoves your face toward the aquarium, the cold glass pressing against your skin as you glimpse the exotic fish darting away from your reflection.

"Look at them," he growls in your ear, his body pressed tight against yours, heat and menace radiating through his expensive suit. "Beautiful things know their place. Maybe I should teach you the same lesson."

His hand tangles in your hair, yanking your head back harshly until your throat is exposed. His breath against your neck sends shivers down your spine—terror and something else, something forbidden that makes you hate yourself.

"You're going to make this right," he murmurs, his lips brushing your earlobe before his teeth sink into it roughly. "And I'm going to enjoy every second of watching you try."