Because the second she said yes—really said it—there’d be no undoing it. She’d stop being their golden girl. And start being mine.
I pushed off the wall, walking to the window at the end of the hall.
City lights blinked back at me—flickers of chaos, heat, hunger.
My world. The one she stepped into wearing my shirt and nothing else.
I ran a hand through my hair, exhaling slow. Not because I was nervous. Because I was done waiting. One way or another—she walked out wearing that ring. Or she didn’t walk out at all.
The knock was soft—barely a tap. Almost like she still wasn't sure what her answer was going to be.
Didn’t matter. I felt it like a hit to the ribs.
I didn’t answer. Didn’t move.
Let her make the call.
If she was bluffing, she’d back off. If she was serious… She’d open the fucking door.
The handle turned. The door creaked.
And there she was.
Wearing my shirt.
Wearing my fucking ring.
I didn’t breathe.
The diamond caught the hallway light like a flare, like it was screaming to the world that she was mine now.
And her?
She didn’t wear it like she was testing it out. She wore it like a challenge. Like she knew exactly what she’d done—and dared me to do something about it.
My throat went dry. My chest tight.
Everything inside me?
Snapped.
“You can’t go back,” I growled, voice low, rough.
Not a warning. A truth.
She needed to know.
There were consequences to her choice.
Her eyes locked on mine, steady. “I know.”
No flinch.
No apology.
Just that spark. That fire that danced on the edge of chaos.
God, I could taste it.
