HIS TO RUIN
And now the slow burn between us—our heat, our tension, our unspoken desires—was threading tighter than ever.
I met his eyes, saw the storm behind them, and realized that the night had shifted. Dinner was no longer just dinner. It was a battlefield of glances, touches, and unspoken claims. And Marcus—Marcus was the spark that lit it all. He was the fucking fire, and I hated it.
My fingers twined with Damien’s under the table. His grip was firm. Protective. A statement. And I knew, with a chill running up my spine, that he had already seen Marcus. Already understood what that meant.
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