POV: Olivia

The air in the warehouse hung thick with the scent of old wood and motor oil, the distant hum of the city outside muffled by the corrugated metal walls. My breath came in shallow bursts as I pressed my fingers into the cold concrete pillar behind me. Dominic crowded my space, his broad frame caging me in. The adrenaline from our earlier confrontation, that half-finished argument about territory and control, still crackled between us. But now it twisted into something darker, coiling low in my belly. His cologne wrapped around me, rich and spiced like aged whiskey, intoxicating.

Dominic’s hand shot into my hair, fingers tangling in the...