As soon as I stepped into my room, I knew I'd made a mistake.
He was already there.
Salvo.
Sitting on my bed like it belonged to him—which, technically, it kind of did—but more than that, he sat like a king on his throne. One leg lazily crossed over the other, his jacket tossed aside, sleeves rolled up just enough to show the veins on his forearms. The top buttons of his shirt undone. His eyes—sharp, gleaming under the dim yellow light of the bedside lamp—were fixed on me like a predator who had waited all day for this moment.
I flinched.
My hand instinctively gripped the doorknob behind me, half ready to run and half too stupid to move.
Then he said it—low, deep, and terrifyingly calm.
"Get in."His fingers tapped twice against his knee."Lock the door."
A shiver crawled down my spine. Then: "Yes...sir."
I swallowed hard and obeyed, fingers fumbling with the lock until I heard the small click that might as well have sealed my fate.
I stood there for a moment, heart pounding.
