The doors swung open with a low chime.
Mack stepped in first, broad shoulders cutting a path through the warmth of the buzzing room. Zane and the others trailed behind him, dressed down but still lethal. Wherever they went, the energy shifted — darker, sharper.
But Mack's focus was locked in the moment he saw her.
Viola.
She didn't notice him yet. Her hair was out of the bun, falling in soft waves around her face. She moved between tables, taking an order, smiling politely, biting her bottom lip in that distracted way she did when she was thinking.
She had no idea how badly he wanted to devour her.
Mack didn't sit. Not yet. He leaned against the edge of the booth, his hand resting near his waistband, where the grip of his Glock sat hidden under his loose grey shirt. His sweats hung low on his hips, casual as hell — but there was nothing relaxed about the way he watched her.
His eyes tracked her like a predator watching prey.
Every move she made — the sway of her hips, the flick of her hair, the curve of her lips — was carved into his bloodstream.
Zane dropped into the booth with a snort.
"Jesus, man, you look like you're five seconds away from throwing her over your shoulder again."
"Don't tempt me."
Sam burst out of the kitchen, hands full of plates, spinning around before spotting them.
"Well, look who finally decided to show up and darken my doorstep."
She placed a plate down with dramatic flair, glanced between Mack and Zane, and grinned.
"You boys gonna order dinner or just sit there brooding like you're in a mob movie?"
Mack didn't smile. He was still watching Viola. But his voice dropped, thick with heat.
"Just came for the view."
Sam followed his gaze, then grinned wider, wiggling her eyebrows. "Ah. I see. You came for your pretty little savage."
Mack finally smirked, slow and dangerous. "Damn right."
Viola finally turned, catching his eye.
Her breath hitched — he saw it. The way her fingers paused for half a second before she pulled her professional face back on. But it was too late.
He was already coming for her.
She froze when she saw him walking toward her.
Mack. All six-foot-something of arrogance and testosterone. Grey sweatpants. Glock cap low over his eyes. That loose shirt barely doing its job of covering those damn arms.
She wanted to roll her eyes. And maybe throw herself at him.
Instead, she straightened her notepad, took a deep breath, and turned her sass to full volume.
"You're not even wearing real pants," she said as he got closer.
He grinned. Slowly. "You liked them last night."
Oh. She hated how her cheeks flamed instantly.
"I was delirious. From lack of oxygen."
He stopped in front of her, close enough that she had to tilt her head back to keep eye contact. His scent hit her—woodsy, masculine, with just a hint of the soap from his shower. Ugh.
"Delirious?" he repeated. "Sweetheart, I hadn't even started yet."
Her jaw dropped.
"Mack!"
A family with two toddlers passed by just then, and she gave him a sharp elbow to the ribs. He didn't even flinch. Just laughed, deep and smug.
"Stop it. I'm working," she hissed under her breath.
"Me too," he murmured. "Working on self-restraint."
"Oh my god," she muttered, turning to walk away.
He followed her like a shadow, long strides eating up the space behind her. "You know, for someone who says 'I need space,' you sure leave the door unlocked a lot."
"I was getting dressed!"
"You were in my shirt."
"I was making coffee!"
He stepped in front of her, blocking her path with an infuriatingly perfect smile. "And looking good doing it."
Before she could respond, Sam reappeared with a tray of drinks, completely unbothered.
"Well, if it isn't Captain Hot and Clingy," she quipped, sliding past them.
Mack gave her a nod. "Evening, Sam."
Sam glanced at Viola, then back at Mack. "She's clocked in, bossman. You'll have to wait till the kitchen closes before you drag her over your shoulder again."
"She's lucky I'm not doing it now," Mack said under his breath, eyeing Viola's flushed face.
Viola shoved her notepad at his chest. "You want dinner? Pick something. I'm not getting fired because you're allergic to boundaries."
He took the notepad, but didn't even glance at it.
"I'll just have whatever you recommend," he said. "And you."
"You're ridiculous," she said, trying not to smile.
"You love it."
By the time her shift ended, Viola was half-exhausted and fully annoyed at how often her eyes had wandered to the back booth.
Mack hadn't left. Not once.
He was still there, legs stretched out, arms draped over the back of the booth like a king surveying his damn castle. Every time she glanced over, he was already looking at her—like he was waiting for her to give in.
And she hated how much she wanted to.
When she finally walked toward him, untying her apron, Mack stood up like he'd been waiting for this all night.
"Don't say it," she said before he opened his mouth.
"I missed you," he said, completely ignoring her warning.
Viola rolled her eyes, trying not to smile. "You've been sitting there all night."
"And I missed you the whole damn time."
She shoved his arm lightly. "You're ridiculous."
"Hungry?" he asked.
"Starving."
He walked with her out to the car, his hand resting low on her back. It wasn't a possessive grip—no, it was worse. It was protective. Casual. Like he belonged there.
Once in the car, he pulled out into the road with one hand on the wheel, the other on the gearshift. Music low. Silence warm. Familiar.
"How was the rest of your day?" she asked, trying not to lean into the comfort too much.
"I shot a man."
She blinked. "You what?!"
"Don't worry. He's alive."
Her mouth opened, closed, then opened again. "I don't know what to say to that."
He glanced over, smirking. "Good. That means I get to tell the story."
He went on—something about a guy pulling a gun on one of his members, and Mack teaching him a lesson in a boxing ring. Classic Mack things. She didn't know whether to be horrified or… a little turned on.
Okay, fine. She was very turned on.
"Remind me never to make you angry," she murmured, watching the way his jaw clenched as he talked about it.
"Too late," he said, glancing at her. "You do it all the time."
She smiled. "And yet, you keep showing up."
"I'm consistent like that."