​I took my time pulling on my clothes. I knew she was watching. Even as she stood there with her arms crossed, trying to maintain that "ice queen" boardroom persona, I could see her eyes darting toward me every time I moved. She caught a glimpse of my bare chest, then the V-line of my hips as I stepped back into my trousers.

​"You can stop pretending to look at the squat rack, Abigail," I said, my voice smooth and brimming with confidence. "The mirrors in here are high-definition. I can see your reflection."

​She stiffened, a faint flush creeping up her neck, clashing beautifully with the sharp cream color of her blazer. "You're delusional, Hart. I came here to discuss the distribution merger, not to watch a live demonstration of your... 'magic' as that girl called it."

​"And yet, you didn't leave," I countered, stepping closer. I didn't bother buttoning my shirt yet; I let it hang open, radiating the heat of the workout. "You stood there for ten minutes. You watched me take her. You watched the finish. Your breath was so loud I could hear it over the cameras."

​I stopped just inches from her. The height difference was perfect; she had to tilt her head back to look at me. Up close, the mask was failing. Her pupils were blown wide, and there was a slight tremor in her hands.

​"You're a pig," she whispered, but the insult lacked its usual sting. It was breathless.

​"Maybe," I murmured, leaning down so my breath fanned across her ear. "But you're the one standing in a gym with a 'pig,' and if I'm not mistaken, your heart is beating fast enough to crack a rib. Tell me, Abigail... how wet are you right now after watching me fuck her?"

​She gasped, her hand flying up to push against my chest, but she didn't actually push. Her palm just rested there, feeling the steady thud of my heart against her skin.

​"Don't push your luck, motherfucker."

​She shoved me, the force of it catching me off guard as I stumbled back a step. Her eyes were like ice, sharp and lethal. "Try that again and I'll kill you where you stand."

​I didn't flinch. Instead, I let out a dry chuckle. The raw fear that used to paralyze me when we first met had evaporated, replaced by a cold, calculating hunger. She wasn't a monster anymore; she was a challenge.

​Abigail was the gatekeeper. She was the closest thing Big Mom had to a heart, and if I could seduce her—if I could break that icy composure and see her come apart under me—I could shatter Big Mom's grip on my life forever.

​The thought of it sent a surge of heat through me. I wanted to tear that expensive, suffocating business suit off her frame. I wanted to wrap her blonde hair around my fist, tilt her head back, and shove my cock down her throat until she forgot her own name. I wanted to feel her tighten around me as I buried myself in her, drilling into her until she was nothing but a screaming mess of nerves.

​It wasn't a matter of if anymore. It was just a matter of when.

​"So," I said, leaning back against a equipment crate, completely unfazed by her threat. "Why are you really here, Abigail? Missed the smell of the set?"

​A slow, cruel smile spread across her lips. It was the look of someone who knew they held the leash.

​"Big Mom owns you, Hart. Have you forgotten that already?" She stepped closer, her perfume mixing with the scent of sex and sweat still hanging in the air. "She sent me to check on her property. And from what I just saw... the property is performing quite well."

The word "property" hung in the air, cold and clinical, but the way she said it didn't match the fire I'd seen in her eyes moments ago. She was trying to re-establish the hierarchy, trying to remind me that in her world, I was just a line on a ledger.

​But as I looked at her—the way her chest was still heaving, the way she was trying so hard to look disgusted—I realized the power dynamic had flipped the moment she watched me with Salma.

​"Property," I repeated, my voice low and mocking. I took a slow step forward, ignoring her threat. I saw her flinch, just a fraction, her hand twitching toward her side as if she were looking for a weapon or a way out. "Is that why you're still flushed, Abigail? Is that why your eyes are still glazed? Big Mom sent you to check on the property, and you ended up getting a front-row seat to how the property performs."

​I stopped just outside her reach, letting the tension coil between us.

​"You didn't look like a street enforcer while I was pounding Salma," I continued, my gaze raking over her expensive suit. "You looked like a woman who was starving. You want to kill me? Go ahead. But we both know that before you do, you'd want to feel exactly what Salma felt."

​Her face went pale, then a deep, furious red. "You think you're so special because you can fuck for a camera? You're a tool, Druski. Nothing more."

​"A tool you can't stop staring at," I countered with a smirk. "If I'm just property, why are you still in this room alone with me? The door isn't locked, Abigail. You could have walked out with Holmes."

​She opened her mouth to snap back, but the words died in her throat. For a split second, the "ice queen" facade cracked completely, and I saw the raw, pulsing hunger underneath. She hated me, and she hated how much I turned her on.

​She reached into her blazer, pulling out a slim tablet, her fingers trembling slightly as she tapped the screen. "Enough. Big Mom wants a full report on the production timeline and the 'quality' of the talent. She's coming to the city next week. If you aren't ready, she won't be as patient as I am."

​I laughed, a dark, primal sound. "Next week? Good. That gives me plenty of time to show her—and you—just how much 'quality' I really have."

​I turned my back on her to finish buttoning my shirt, knowing the sight of my scarred back was burning into her retinas. "Tell her the property is in peak condition. And Abigail? Next time you want to watch, just ask. You don't have to hide in the doorway like a thirsty schoolgirl."

She leaned in, her grin widening until it looked more like a blade than an expression. Her eyes drilled into mine—cold, predatory, and heavy with a warning that didn't need to be spoken.

​"When you're dismissed," she said, her voice dropping to a silk-smooth command, "Two-Bit will handle Sasha. He's driving her home. You, however... you're coming with me."

​I felt the shift in the room. The casual air of the set was gone, replaced by the suffocating weight of the cage I lived in. "Coming with you where, Abigail?"

​"You'll find out soon enough," she replied, her gaze raking over me one last time, lingering just long enough on my chest to betray herself. "Big Mom has spent quite some time preparing a surprise for you."

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