Ross finally lifted his gaze to meet Karen's, and a slow, calculated smile spread across his face.
It wasn't warm. It wasn't inviting.
It was the kind of smile that held promises, threats, and intentions all at once—a smile that demanded attention and submission.
"Shall we continue where we left off earlier?" His voice was low, smooth, and intoxicating.
Each word seemed to crawl over her skin, seeping into her thoughts like a slow, inevitable tide.
Karen froze, every instinct screaming at her to retreat, yet her legs remained rooted to the spot.
There was no escaping the way he carried himself—the confidence, the poise, the quiet menace in every controlled movement.
Ross began walking toward her, each step measured and deliberate, the soft scuff of his shoes on the floor echoing in the otherwise silent room.
The air between them felt charged, heavy with tension, a silent battle of wills.
