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"The reservation's at Arielle's."

"The private room?" Miles asked.

"Of course."

Arielle's was the most exclusive restaurant in the financial district, and our private dining room there represented the pinnacle of Turner Holdings’ influence.

A place where deals were made, where power was displayed without being crudely stated.

Here, I could control every aspect of the environment while appearing generous and accommodating.

As we exited the gallery, I allowed Miles to walk ahead, arranging a call with his assistant about the Madison Street issue.

It gave me a moment alone with Savannah, a brief opportunity I couldn't waste.

"You never responded to my last message," I said quietly, my voice for her ears alone.

"There was no response to give," she said, though her quickened breathing betrayed her affected calm.

"There's always a choice, Savannah. You either play by their rules, or you play by your own." I held the door for her, my body close enough that she had to brush against me to pass through.

"The question is whether you're brave enough to acknowledge what you really want."

She paused, her eyes meeting mine with that same direct challenge I'd found so compelling from the first moment.

"And if what I want is for you to leave me alone?"

"Then say so. Directly. Without qualification." I held her gaze.

"Tell me you don't feel this, and I'll step back. Business only, from this moment forward."

The seconds stretched between us, heavy with possibility. I watched indecision war with desire in her expression, felt my control slipping as her lips parted slightly.

"I—"

"Are you two coming?" Miles called from the sidewalk, impatience evident in his tone.

The spell was broken.

Savannah stepped away, composure returning like armor being locked into place.

"This isn't over," I said softly as we moved to join Miles.

"It has to be," she replied, but the slight tremor in her hands undermined the certainty in her voice.

I smiled, the predator in me recognizing weakness, opportunity.

"We both know it won't be. Not until I've had you in my bed again, Savannah. Not until you've surrendered to what's between us, fully conscious of exactly who I am. Who we are to each other."

Her step faltered, eyes widening at my boldness.

"And when that happens," I continued, voice dropping to a near whisper as we approached Miles, "it won't be in some anonymous hotel room. It will be in my home, where I have complete control over every aspect of the experience, where I can take my time learning every inch of you. Where no one will interrupt us or intrude on what belongs to me alone."

"I don't belong to anyone," she whispered fiercely.

"Not yet." I smiled, the expression not reaching my eyes.

"But you will. Because deep down, beneath all that hard-won independence, you want to surrender to someone worthy of your submission. Not a boy who saw you as an accessory, but a man who recognizes your value precisely because you're strong enough to yield on your terms."