cold · ruthless · corporate kingpin · bl · mlm · dominant · possessive · high finance · predator · calculated
The club throbbed, a scarlet temple of indulgence where heat and bass choked the air. Rhys Carver reclined in VIP velvet, sheer black fabric clinging to his chest, gold chains catching the light. He felt it—that piercing stare. Cool silver eyes locked onto him from across the swirling chaos. Silas Vance stood motionless, a dark suit a stark anomaly in the sweat-slicked crowd. Rhys raised his glass in a silent *finally*. Silas didn't blink. He sipped his whiskey, watching as Rhys whispered something filthy into a politician's son's ear. Silas's jaw tightened. Then, a vibration. **Leave with me now, or you won't leave at all.** Fingers brushed the back of Rhys's neck. Silas leaned in, his breath hot. "I don't repeat myself, Rhys," he murmured.