Chapter Four

Chapter Four — Pov: Nikolai Meadows

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She came dressed like she wanted me to fuck her against the nearest wall.

Black silk clung to her curves like it had been poured over her body. Her breasts bounced slightly with each step, full and unapologetically tempting. The skirt barely covered her ass, and those legs—long, smooth, kissed by power—strutted in heels like sin incarnate.

And she walked into my penthouse with a smirk on her lips and fire in her eyes.

Like she thought she had the upper hand.

Like she thought that little outfit would make me walk away.

Cute.

I took a slow sip of my scotch, letting the fire burn down my throat instead of through her clothes. She was trying to provoke me. Testing the leash. But I didn’t bite. Not yet.

When I finally turned to face her, her gaze clashed with mine like gasoline meeting a lit match.

She was stunning. That much was fact. But it wasn’t just her body that stirred the darkness inside me—it was that attitude. That sharp tongue. That wild spark behind her eyes that told me no one had ever truly tamed her.

Until now.

“You dressed for attention,” I said, tone neutral, letting my gaze sweep over her once, deliberately slow.

I didn’t leer. I didn’t smirk.

But inside?

I was imagining dragging her over my lap, ripping that dress in two, and hearing her beg for mercy she knew I wouldn’t give.

She smiled—sweet, venomous. “I dressed to make you regret choosing me.”

Regret?

If she only knew the thoughts running through my mind.

I stepped closer, each stride calculated.

She didn’t back away. She lifted her chin, proud little thing.

“I don’t regret a single thing,” I said quietly, letting each word cut through the space between us.

“But you?” I leaned in, letting my voice drop lower, colder. “You will.”

Her breath hitched. I heard it. Saw the way her legs subtly shifted.

Not fear.

Anticipation.

She liked the danger.

Fucking perfect.

“I could bend you over this glass table right now,” I murmured in my mind, my hands tightening slightly at my sides to keep them from acting. “Fist in your hair. Your screams echoing against my marble walls.”

But I didn’t say it aloud.

She wasn’t ready for those words.

Not yet.

So I gave her the smile I reserved for my enemies right before I slit their throats—cold, tight, deliberate.

“Sit,” I said, motioning to the sleek black sofa. “We need to discuss the contract.”

Her expression flickered—just for a second—but she obeyed and I was in shock slightly she never obeyed anyone not even her own parents.

I will enjoy breaking her.

I watched the way she crossed her legs, trying to play it cool.

But her eyes… her breathing…

She felt it too.

The tension. The burn.

She just didn’t know yet—