Eleanor’s pov

The bartender barely looked up when Marcus gave a short nod and guided me past the main floor toward a narrow hallway at the back of the café.

A private room waited at the end, the door heavy and the lock solid.

The moment it clicked shut behind us the noise of the café disappeared and the air turned thick with everything we had been holding back in the booth.

Marcus turned to face me fully, the broad line of his shoulders filling the small space.

His gray eyes stayed fixed on mine and the command in them left no room for anything soft.

“On your knees, Eleanor.”...