Viola's POV
The afternoon sun streamed through the window of the small coffee shop, glinting off her laptop screen. Viola sipped slowly from her oversized mug, fingers flying over the keyboard.
Her characters were arguing again—lovers on the edge of something dangerous. Much like herself.
Now and then, her mind drifted to him. Mack. His mouth on hers. His hand was in her hair. That whispered promise of dinner still echoed in her chest.
She shook her head, forcing herself back into the story. No distractions. Just pages.
But even as she wrote someone else's love story, she knew hers was already starting to unfold—whether she liked it or not.
Mack's POV
His boardroom was a fishbowl of stiff suits and glass walls, but his mind wasn't on the financial projections flickering on the screen.
It was on Viola.
He hadn't slept much. Hell, he'd barely blinked. He could still taste her name on his tongue. The way she'd pulled back from him last night… he respected it. Admired it. But it only made him want her more.
She wasn't like the others. She didn't fall at his feet. She made him work for it—and that was exactly what he intended to do.
As the meeting droned on, Mack leaned toward Jax, who sat to his right.
"Wrap this up. I've got somewhere to be."
Jax smirked. "Let me guess. Dark hair, sharp tongue, and eyes that look like they'll burn you alive?"
Mack gave him a sidelong glance. "You've been around me too long."
"Maybe. Speaking of sharp tongues…" Jax cleared his throat, trying to sound casual. "Think it'd be weird if I asked Sam out?"
Mack arched a brow. "You're serious?"
Jax shrugged. "She's hot. Smart. I like her. She looks like she'd throw a drink in my face if I said the wrong thing. That's s*xy as hell."
Mack chuckled under his breath. "Try not to get yourself slapped. Or fired."
"Challenge accepted."
Sam's POV
The restaurant wasn't too crowded yet. She moved behind the counter with easy grace, pen stuck in her messy bun, apron tied loosely around her waist.
She liked the rhythm of it all—orders in, plates out, little bursts of banter with regulars.
Until she looked up and saw him.
Jax. Tall, cocky, definitely trouble. He didn't belong in her world—and yet here he was, striding in like he owned the sidewalk outside and had just decided to add her to his empire.
She narrowed her eyes. "You lost, pretty boy?"
Jax grinned. "Nah. I came for the steak, stayed for the sass."
Sam crossed her arms. "If this is your version of flirting, I'm gonna need a drink. And I don't even drink on shift."
"You should try it sometime," he said, leaning in with that unbothered smirk. "Or… you could try dinner. With me. Tonight."
Her eyes narrowed. "You're lucky I haven't called security."
Jax held up both hands. "Noted. So… that's a maybe?"
Behind them, the door opened again.
Mack's POV
Mack stepped into the restaurant like a storm dressed in black. Viola wasn't there yet, but he wasn't here for her—not this time.
He spotted Sam and Jax mid-standoff.
"Everything alright here?" Mack asked, tone dry but sharp.
Jax turned, casual as ever. "Just laying groundwork, boss."
Sam blinked. "Is this guy seriously your second-in-command?"
Mack didn't answer. He just looked at her, then back at Jax. "You break her heart, you're cleaning out the armoury blindfolded."
Jax winked at Sam. "He means that affectionately."
Sam rolled her eyes and turned back to her customers, hiding a small smile.
Viola's POV
When she walked into the restaurant a few minutes later, a laptop bag slung over her shoulder, the scene that greeted her made her laugh.
Mack in all his black-suited intensity. Jax practically lounging. Sam looking somewhere between annoyed and flattered.
"Did I miss something?" she asked, brushing past them toward her usual booth.
Mack followed her with his eyes, then moved after her like gravity had just shifted in the room.
"You're right on time," he said softly once they were out of earshot.
"For what?"
He leaned in close, brushing a piece of hair from her cheek. "For me to make you fall a little more."
Viola's breath caught—but her mouth still worked. "Confidence today, aren't we?"
He didn't answer. Just smiled that slow, dark smile of his.
And she knew—dinner tonight was going to be anything but simple.
He didn't hover—he waited. Poised and dangerous, leaning near the window like a shadow that had taken human form. But he watched her. Like always.
And she felt it. In her spine. Her ribs. Her fingertips.
"Stop looking at me like that," she muttered without glancing up from her tablet.
"I'm not looking at you," Mack replied smoothly. "I'm studying."
She snorted, cheeks flushing despite herself. "Careful. That almost sounded charming."
"Good. I need the practice for tonight."
That shut her up.
Behind them, Sam dropped a spoon with a loud clatter. Jax was still sitting at the bar with that lazy, cocky grin like he was on a beach instead of inside a moderately upscale restaurant. She didn't know what annoyed her more—how confident he was, or how charming it kind of was.
"So you just show up, ask me out, and flirt like you've already got a yes?"
"I don't assume," Jax said, standing up and placing a tip on the bar. "I hope. Big difference."
She blinked, thrown off by the sincerity in his tone. Just as quickly, his grin returned.
"You like fast cars and spicy food?" he asked, walking backwards toward the door. "Because that's my plan for Friday night."
"I'm working," she lied.
"I'll bring takeout."
Before she could come up with a witty reply, Mack passed her on his way to Viola's table.
"You might want to ask her permission for that," he said casually to Jax, nodding at Sam.
And just like that, she was blushing again.
Mack's POV
Viola was pretending not to squirm under his gaze, but he knew the signs—the shifting legs, the distracted typing, the lip caught between her teeth.
"Stop working," he said, voice low and firm.
Viola narrowed her eyes. "You can't just command me to—"
"I can when you have a date with me in four hours and I'm planning every second of it."
Her heart thudded. She hated how much she wanted to be bossed around by him—just a little.
"You planning to feed me or interrogate me?" she asked.
"Both," Mack said with a slow grin. "But first, you'll need to dress comfortably."
"Define comfortable."
"I'm cooking," he said, standing up. "I'll do the fire. You just show up and try not to set me on fire."
He left before she could reply.
She watched him go, the scent of cedar and danger trailing behind him, and something tight curled low in her belly.
She was in trouble.