I smirked, wiping the sweat from my face with the hem of my shirt.
There it was.
The video was everywhere.
Someone had caught it—Kennedy in that tight little black dress, standing way too close to me at the afterparty. Her head tilted back, laughing at something I said.
Her hand brushing my chest when she tried to walk away.
The look I gave her when she did.
Predatory. Possessive. Fucking inevitable.
The golden girl.
Gary Delgado’s fiancée.
Jake Hathaway’s off-limits baby sister.
Caught on camera with me.
I hoped they saw it.
I hoped they fucking choked on it.
Delgado, with his perfect jaw and Olympic smile.
Jake, with his fake morals and family first bullshit.
They thought they could parade her around like a prize. Thought she was untouchable.
But she looked good next to me.
And now the world knew it.
Let them spiral. Let them rage. Let them try to come for me.
Because when men get emotional, they make mistakes.
And I didn't.
I won.
Always.
I tucked the phone into my pocket, that smirk still curling on my lips like a loaded weapon.
Let them burn.
She would wear my ring.
They just didn’t know it yet.
The garage was quiet when I pulled in.
Engine still hot, streetlights painting long shadows across the hood. I killed the lights and stepped out, the sound of my boots echoing in the concrete silence.
Up the elevator.
