“Fine,” she says finally.“But I want everything you know.Every detail.No sugarcoating.No mysterious ‘I’ll tell you when the time is right’ bullshit.If I’m in danger, I get to know.”
“You got it,” I say instantly.
She narrows her eyes.
“And after that?”
My pulse kicks up.
“After that?”
She lifts her chin, stubborn and fierce.
“Then we’ll talk about whether I’m still interested in dinner.Or if I’m too busy reminding you that I’m not yours.”
“You’re mine?—”
“No, I’m not.Not unless I say so.”
A slow grin spreads across my face because even when she’s angry—hell, especially when she’s angry—she’s beautiful.Untouchable.Mine.
“Yes, ma’am,” I murmur.“Whatever you say.”
Because I may be the weapon.
But she’s the one holding the trigger.
And I’ve never wanted to be shot in the heart more than I do right now.
Chapter13
Sabrina
My stomach growled at the absolute worst moment—right when I thought I had the emotional upper hand.
So now we’re sitting across from each other in a tiny, dimly lit pizzeria just a few blocks from Volkov Towers.
It’s old-school, cash-only, and packed with the scent of roasted garlic and bubbling cheese.
Theo—Ego, whatever—knew the place without checking a map.Of course he did.
He’s the kind of man who knows where to find comfort in a crisis.
So, yeah.Him.Me.Dinner.
And a detailed explanation of my idiot brother’s tech-fueled dumpster fire.
That’s why we’re here.Not because I’m softening.
Definitely not because I’m starting to like the way he looks at me.
Or the way his hand always seems to find the small of my back.
Like it did the second we got in the elevator.
Or how his voice gets gravel-deep every single time he calls me Angel.
Sure, Sabrina, tell yourself that.
