Now, as I turn to face Jasmine Biao once again, the effect she has on me has not lessened at all. There’s still a lurch deep in the pit of my stomach, like I’ve been caught on a fish hook; my collar is still too tight, scraping against my throat. I’m dazed by her beauty, all too ready to crash to my knees and beg for a taste, and that makes me feel the same thing it always did.

Bone-deep resentment.

I’m fucking furious. How dare Jasmine Biao slip into my office uninvited, as though this is still her family’s playground? How dare she say my name in that husky...