I adjusted my suit tie with practiced ease, then lifted a glass of Barolo to my lips.
Good wine for a good deal closed.
For a boundary marked.
And for a toast to the corpse of anyone who ever fucking tried to get in my way—or touch what belonged to me.
The meeting was over.
Deals signed.
And the motherfucker sitting across from me with disguised impatience on his face was supposed to stroll out behind Kane Vashawn like the fucking loyal dog he was.
Instead, he was here, questioning me like he had the right.
There was a thin line between obsession and madness. Without a doubt, I was standing on both.
"You're engaged to Karen."
It wasn't a question.
He was fucking reminding me like he hadn't kissed my ring.
Like he had the damn right to do it.
I brushed a hand through my hair slowly, eyes narrowed enough to kill.
I blinked slowly, fingers tapping on the large desk lazily. "And?"
Lorenzo exhaled, with strain and an annoying edge to his voice.
