I remember her hands against my chest, the way she fought and bled beside me, the way she looked at me as if she could see everything I tried to hide.
Nikola catches the shift in me and doesn’t miss a beat. He leans in, voice pitched for my ears alone, his tone grim.
“Don’t even think about it, Leon. She’s not like the others. She won’t just walk away when you’re finished. You’ll start a fire you can’t put out.”
I almost laugh. I want to tell him that the fire’s already burning, that it started the night I met her, and it’s never once gone out. I just nod, sipping my drink, eyes fixed on her. Simonsays something careless about trouble, about women who can’t be tamed, but it’s just noise.
Suzy is magnetic, untouchable, untamed. She knows exactly what she’s doing, and she’s doing it for everyone except me. Maybe that’s what makes it worse.
I tell myself it’s nothing. Curiosity, pride. Maybe the sting of being outplayed in my own house, my own world. When she finally peels away from her circle and cuts across the club, I feel the temperature rise. The music fades, the lights dim, and the only thing I see is her.
She stops in front of me, arms folded, eyes bright and sharp.
“You look good for a man who just lost a war,” she says, voice low, teasing. There’s an edge beneath it, a memory of everything we did to each other.
I raise a brow, let my lips curl in a smirk I don’t really feel. “You look good for a woman who started one.”
She rolls her eyes, refusing to give an inch. “You don’t own me anymore, Leon. Whatever game you’re playing, you’ll have to find someone else.”
Something ugly and thrilling coils inside me. Her courage grates and attracts in equal measure. I take a step closer, my voice low enough that only she can hear. “Maybe not, but I never let go of what’s mine easily.”
She laughs, short and dismissive, but her eyes linger a beat too long. “That’s the problem with men like you. You think anyone who survives you must want more.”
The line stings, but it excites me too. “Maybe they do.”
She shakes her head, turning away first, but the air between us is electric—heavy with threat and promise. I watchher move back into the crowd, every step a dare, every glance over her shoulder a challenge.
I finish my drink, heart pounding. All the noise and light and music of the club can’t drown out the ache in my chest, the hunger that refuses to fade. I know I should walk away. I know I should forget her, let her go, let her be someone else’s problem. But I can’t.
Nikola watches me, his look a mix of warning and weary understanding. “You want her to ruin you?” he asks quietly.
Maybe I do.
I look back one last time, catching Suzy’s gaze across the club. She holds it, unblinking, chin high, a queen refusing to bow.
I know tonight isn’t the end. It’s the beginning of something neither of us can control. And God help me, I want to see how far it will burn.
***
When we leave an hour later, the drive home is dense with silence, the city’s pulse muted behind the glass. Every red light glows like an old wound. I sit in the backseat, arms crossed, eyes fixed on nothing, replaying the night over and over.
Suzy—unruly, dazzling, impossible—has left a mark I can’t shake. Her laugh still rings in my ears, that husky note she used to deflect anyone getting too close. Her gaze, cool and direct, had locked with mine for just a moment longer than it should have.
Every line of her, every calculated angle and hidden soft spot, feels like a riddle with no safe answer.
Nikola chats quietly with Boris up front, voices low and practical. They talk about club security, tomorrow’s meetings, the business of surviving.
None of it touches me. I hear nothing but my own pulse and the memory of Suzy’s mouth twisting in challenge. I try to convince myself it’s just habit—this itch for unfinished business, the thrill of a worthy opponent. She’s dangerous, I remind myself. She’s Marcus White’s daughter. This is supposed to be over.
But I know better. I’ve never been this reckless for anyone. Not for money. Not for power. Not even for family. With Suzy, every moment is friction, every word a dare. The more she pushes back, the more I want to close the distance, to make her see me—not just as her captor or her enemy, but as the only man who ever matched her fire for fire.
Lost in thought, I barely notice when Boris asks about the next day’s plans. I snap back, voice sharp. “Tomorrow, send a message to Marcus. Tell him I have a proposal; one he can’t refuse.”
There’s a beat of silence in the front seat. Boris’s grip tightens on the wheel, his jaw flexing. “Leon, that’s a mistake. Marcus is unstable. He’s still gunning for payback after the last exchange. You push him again, you risk starting a war—”
“Just do it.” My voice brooks no argument. “I know what I’m doing.”
Boris wants to fight, but something in my expression stops him. He nods, silent, eyes fixed on the road. Nikola sighs, rubbing at a fresh bruise on his cheek, muttering, “Old wounds, new trouble. You never learn, do you?”
