A KNOCK AT MIDNIGHT
It started with a knock.
Three slow, deliberate thuds against the penthouse door.
Daisy jolted upright in bed, clutching the silk sheets to her chest. Xander was already up, shirtless, gun in hand, moving silently through the room like a shadow made flesh.
She followed, heart pounding.
He peered through the peephole, cursed under his breath, and tucked the gun behind his waistband.
"It's her."
"Who?" Daisy asked.
He didn't answer.
Instead, he opened the door.
And there she was Arabella Navarro. A red-lipped storm in stilettos and a skin-tight black dress, hair sleek, eyes venomous.
His ex.
The woman he almost married.
The one who once owned him body, mind and wallet.
Arabella walked in like she owned the place.
No permission. No hesitation.
She ran her fingers along the marble counter, her hips swaying with smug confidence.
"Still cold in here," she purred, glancing around. "Some things never change."
Xander didn't smile.
"What do you want?"
Daisy stood at the top of the stairs, watching silently, arms crossed over her chest.
Arabella noticed her.
Her eyes narrowed.
"Oh," she said, voice dripping with false sweetness. "So this is the pet."
Daisy's jaw tightened.
"And you must be the expired label he forgot to throw out."
Arabella laughed.
"I see you've trained her mouth well, Xander. But I wonder have you trained the rest?"
Before Daisy could respond, Arabella walked up to Xander, putting a hand on his chest.
"I came to warn you," she whispered, standing far too close. "Dominic's not just playing games anymore. He wants the seat. The syndicate. Your head."
"I can handle Dominic."
Arabella leaned in, lips nearly touching his jaw.
"He doesn't play fair. Neither do I."
Daisy had enough.
She stormed down the stairs, her silk robe flowing like a stormcloud behind her.
"Touch him again," she growled, "and I'll show you exactly what I've been trained to do."
Arabella turned, amused.
"Is that jealousy I hear?"
"No," Daisy said, stepping between them. "It's a warning."
Xander looked between them, torn between anger and something dangerously close to arousal.
"I should go," Arabella said with a smirk. "But don't worry, darling. I'll be seeing you both again. Maybe sooner than you think."
And then she was gone.
The silence she left behind crackled like lightning in a bottle.
Daisy didn't speak.
She turned, marched back upstairs, slammed the bedroom door.
Xander followed minutes later.
She was pacing.
"You were going to marry that?"
"She wasn't always like that."
"She touched you like she still had a right."
He stood there, watching her rage unravel like silk thread, until finally he crossed the room and pinned her against the wall.
"Say what you really want to say."
"I hate her."
He kissed her.
Hard.
"I love it when you're angry."
"Don't turn this into..."
But it was already happening.
Xander's mouth was hot against hers, stealing the fury from her lips and replacing it with something darker. His hands slipped beneath her robe, grabbing her thighs and hoisting her up.
She wrapped her legs around him, gasping as her back hit the wall again.
"This is mine," he growled, biting her collarbone.
"And I'm still furious," she whispered, grinding her hips against his.
"Then let me fuck the fury out of you."
He carried her to the bed, throwing her down, dragging her robe off, leaving her bare and trembling.
Then he stripped, slow and deliberate, letting her see everything she already craved.
"You're not doing this because of her?" Daisy asked, voice breathless.
"No," he said, climbing over her. "I'm doing this because the idea of her touching me made you wild."
Then he was inside her.
Deep.
Thick.
Unforgiving.
Daisy arched beneath him, nails clawing at his back, lips parted in a silent cry.
He thrust harder.
Faster.
Rougher.
Until the room shook with their moans, their gasps, their primal rhythm.
He flipped her onto her stomach, pulled her hips back, and took her again.
She cried out, clenching around him, heat exploding through her body.
"You're mine," he hissed.
"Say it."
"Yours," she gasped. "I'm yours."
wreckage of their lust.
Bodies slick. Hearts racing.
Xander kissed her shoulder softly, a stark contrast to how violently he'd taken her moments ago.
"She's trouble," Daisy murmured.
"So are you."
"Will she come back?"
"She always does."
Daisy turned her head to look at him.
"But this time," he whispered, brushing hair from her face, "I've got something to fight for."
In the morning.
A package arrived at the door.
Unmarked. No name. No return address.
Inside it a single photograph.
Daisy.
Naked.
Asleep.
From last night.
Taken through the window.
On the back of the photo, a message:
"Beautiful pet. Would be a shame if she got stolen."
Daisy stared at it, blood draining from her face.
Xander clenched his jaw so tight, his molars nearly cracked.
He knew that handwriting.
And he knew exactly what Arabella had just started.
War.