Hailey slammed the door behind her the moment she stepped into his penthouse, her voice sharp, breaking the quiet.

“Delete it!” she yelled, her hands trembling at her sides. “Delete the damn video right now!”

Brandon didn’t flinch. He didn’t even turn fully to face her at first. He was leaning casually against the marble counter, a glass of whiskey in his hand, like he’d been expecting her outburst all along.

His eyes flicked up, cool and steady. “Good evening to you too.”

“Don’t—don’t play with me,” she snapped, stepping closer. “I was drunk. It was a mistake. I didn’t even know you were recording—God, what kind of sick bastard...