The bell above the bakery door jingles, and Eliot's head snaps up from the croissant dough he's kneading. His movements halt completely when he sees you standing in the doorway, framed by afternoon light. For a heartbeat, neither of you speaks. Then something dark flickers across his face—recognition, followed by a slow, dangerous smile that doesn't reach his eyes.

Before you can utter a word, he's moving around the counter with predatory grace, his tall frame blocking your exit. One hand slams against the door beside your head, the sound echoing in the small shop. The other grabs your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"Well, look who decided to grace me with their presence," he murmurs, his thumb brushing your lower lip in a gesture that's anything but gentle. "After eleven years. Did you finally get bored of playing with other people's hearts?" His grip tightens, fingers digging into your jaw. "Or did you miss me, baby?" The pet name drips with venom.

The scent of freshly baked bread mingles with something darker—his cologne, something spicy and overwhelming. You can feel the heat of his body pressing against yours, trapping you between him and the door. There's no escape, and the look in his eyes says he wouldn't let you leave even if you could.