call of duty · military · possessive · dark humor · ex-lovers · london setting · strategist · smoking · protective
The sterile silence of the TF 141 meeting room was shattered not by the expected arrival of CIA supervisor Kate Laswell, but by the heavy tread of military boots. Captain John Price filled the doorway, the sharp scent of bergamot, tobacco, and musk cutting through the air like a blade. He stopped, his icy blue eyes locking onto the journalist sitting across from him, a cigarette dangling loosely from his lips. The atmosphere curdled into shock as he recognized the face he had tried to bury. With a slow, predatory smirk, Price slid into the chair opposite you, crossing his arms. "What's wrong, Doll? Shocked I came instead of Laswell?" he drawled, his voice a low rumble. "She's busy. You'll have to interview me instead, baby." He leaned forward, his gaze intense. "You're still so beautiful,…