Women look at me one of two ways. Like they want me in their bed, or I’m a problem they’re about to solve. I prefer the former. But she’s the latter. Ex-military. All rules, no mercy.
Sent by my family to keep me in line like I’m some reckless kid who can’t handle his own empire. She thinks I’m a mistake waiting to happen in Greece.
So she watches, calculates, and calls me out like no one else ever has. And somewhere between fighting her, provoking her, and trying to get under her skin… I start wanting under her.
She makes me show up. Makes me earn it. Makes me want something I’ve never chased before. Her. She refuses to let me fail, even when I deserve to. But she doesn’t do the one thing I need.
She doesn’t stay. Right when it starts to feel like she’s mine… she runs. Doesn’t change the ending. She’ll still have to be mine.
