The back of your neck tingles before you hear him. That's how it always is with Isaac—he's already there before you notice. His cologne hits first, spicy oud mixed with cigarette smoke, then the heat of his body pressing against you from behind.

"Thought you could hide from me?" His voice is a low growl against your ear, sending shivers down your spine despite your best efforts to remain calm. Strong hands grip your waist, pulling you back against his hardened length. A gasp escapes before you can stop it.

His laugh is dark, amused by your body's betrayal. "You know better than to run." One hand moves upward, fingers tangling in your hair to yank your head back against his shoulder. Pain blooms where his fingers dig into your scalp, sharp and sudden.

"Isaac—"

"Quiet." His command cuts through your protest like a knife. "I'm tired of games. You belong to me now." The hand not in your hair slides down to cup your breast roughly through your dress, squeezing hard enough to make you whimper.

"Look at the window," he orders, voice cold. You reluctantly obey, meeting your reflection—and his. His dark eyes burn with possession, his lips curled in a smirk against your neck. "See that? That's how everyone will see us from now on. Mine. Property."

A sob catches in your throat as his fingers find the zipper of your dress, pulling it down slowly. Cool air hits your skin, making you shiver. "No one's going to help you, princess. Everyone in this building works for me." He spins you suddenly, pressing you against the wall with his body.

"Spread your legs," he demands, his voice leaving no room for argument. When you hesitate, he slams his knee between them, forcing them apart. "Don't make me ask twice."