Sasha swallowed, hard. He was close enough now that she could sll the subtle spice of his cologne, mixed with sothing rawer—like heat and danger.
"You ca here because you wanted to know what kind of man I am," he continued. "So let tell you: I'm the kind of man who doesn't just take what he wants. I make you want to give it."
Sasha tried to steady her breathing, but the weight of his words wrapped around her, thick and warm like smoke.
"And what exactly do you want, Ross?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
He didn't hesitate. "Tonight? You. In every way a woman can be had. Not just the body, Sasha—I want your surrender. I want to see how far that fire of yours can burn before you lt in my hands."
She gasped softly, involuntarily. Her spine stiffened and her breath caught in her throat.
For a brief mont, she considered throwing her wine in his face. For another, longer mont, she considered asking him what hotel he had in mind.
Instead, she sat there, heart pounding, skin flushed, and eyes locked on his.
Neither of them spoke.
They didn't need to.
The tension between them had spoken volus.
"You're delusional," Sasha said, her voice steady despite the rapid thumping of her heart. She could feel her pulse in her neck, but she refused to show weakness.
"I'm sorry to let you know that have a boyfriend already, so that's not going to happen."
Ross's smile didn't waver. If anything, it deepened, like a wolf recognizing a challenge.
"Sothing tells you don't like your boyfriend very much," he said casually, his words wrapped in a knowing tone.
"Because if you did, you wouldn't have stayed so… pure and untouched until tonight."
The implication of his words hit her like a cold slap. He didn't even flinch.
He simply watched her, his gaze intense, a quiet confidence radiating from him. The audacity of it left her speechless for a mont, but her heart raced even faster.
How could he know sothing so personal? Sothing no one had ever guessed before?
"How do you know that?" Sasha asked, almost incredulously.
Her eyebrows furrowed in disbelief.
There was no way he could have dug into her life so thoroughly.
Was it so sort of intuition? Or was he the type to weave the truth into his charm?
Ross leaned back, hands loosely clasped together, as if he was savoring her reaction. "It's a secret," he replied, a smile playing at the corner of his lips.
"But don't worry, after you get to be mine, you'll be privy to every little secret I may have, Sasha."
The words "after you get to be mine" hung in the air like an unspoken challenge, one that clawed at her pride and tested her resolve.
His gaze was direct, powerful, and the weight of it made her pulse quicken.
Sasha's expression faltered for a split second. She had the urge to stand up, to walk away, to get so space—anything to distance herself from this dangerously intoxicating man.
But she knew he was watching. He would read every movent. He would see it as her surrender, a retreat before the inevitable, and that thought alone made her grit her teeth.
"Cute," she said with a sharp laugh, her lips curling into a defiant smile. "But not cute enough to get ."
Ross's smile only deepened, but it wasn't playful anymore.
There was sothing sharper in it now, as if the stakes of this little ga had just been raised.
"We'll see about that," he said, his voice low and dripping with promise.
Sasha's mind was racing.
She thought about how easily Ross could have pieced together her life.
A man like him—rich, powerful, ticulous—could uncover anything with just a few phone calls, a little money, a bit of charm.
He probably knew everything about her, from the day she was born to the smallest, most intimate details of her life.
The idea of him having that kind of power over her made her skin crawl.
She didn't like being vulnerable, didn't like the idea that anyone could know so much about her—especially soone like Ross.
The impulse to leave was stronger now, almost overwhelming.
She could get up, walk out of the restaurant, and put an end to this.
He was playing a dangerous ga, and she wasn't sure if she wanted to stay in it.
But then she t his eyes once again, and she knew, deep down, that he wasn't just observing her—he was waiting for her to act.
He knew exactly what she was thinking.
And worse, he probably already knew she would hesitate.
He would savor the mont when she gave in to her curiosity, her desire, or her pride.
Walking away would only make it worse for her.
Sasha's grip tightened around her glass, but she didn't flinch. She forced a smile, though it was harder to keep up the facade.
"Nice try, Ross. But I'm not the kind of woman who's easily controlled."
His smile didn't falter; in fact, it only widened, like a predator whose prey had just revealed a weakness.
"Neither am I," he whispered, his voice low enough to send a shiver down her spine.
Sasha's breath caught, and for a brief mont, she almost lost herself in the tension that wrapped around them like a noose.
She could feel the heat rising between them, tangible and undeniable.
The way his gaze road her face, lingering on her lips, her eyes, her neck—it was a power play, and he knew it.
Every move he made, every word he said, was calculated to break her down bit by bit.
And yet, Sasha held her ground. She wasn't going to let him have that satisfaction. Not yet.
This was a ga, a dangerous one, but she wasn't about to let him think she would be the one to fold.
Sasha would not be defeated in a ga she chose to play in the first place.
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