Page 120 of You Owe Me

I turn to look in the full-length mirror, and damn. She’s outdone herself. My hair falls in glossy waves that catch the light, my makeup is flawless but not overdone, and the dress…

The dress is a declaration of war wrapped in Italian silk.

“Holy shit,” Sebastian breathes. “Carter’s going to swallow his own tongue.”

“That’s the plan,” I reply, smoothing the fabric over my hips. The dress fits like it was made for me, hugging every curve before falling in a way that suggests elegance while promising sin.

“Shoes,” Eliza commands, pointing to the Louboutins.

I slip them on, and suddenly, I’m tall enough to look Maverick in the eye without craning my neck. The height is intoxicating—powerful in a way that makes me understand why women have been using stilettos as weapons for centuries.

“Perfect,” Eliza declares. “You look like you could destroy empires.”

“That’s because she can,” Maverick says quietly, and when I turn to look at him, his expression makes my breath catch.

Pride. Possession. Something that looks dangerously close to reverence.

“Time to go,” Sebastian announces, checking his phone. “Carter’s probably already at the restaurant, sweating through his polo shirt and wondering why his life choices led him here.”

I grab my clutch—small, elegant, containing only the essentials: phone, lipstick, and a recording device that’scompletely legal and definitely going to ruin Carter’s entire existence.

“Remember,” Maverick’s voice carries an edge of command that makes everyone in the room pay attention, “you’re not there to negotiate. You’re there to let him hang himself.”

“I know.” I check my reflection one last time. “Trust me, I’ve got this.”

“I do trust you.” There’s something fierce in his voice. “It’s everyone else I want to murder.”

Sebastian and Rowan head for the door, probably eager to get out before Maverick changes his mind and decides to handle this the old-fashioned way. Eliza gives me a quick hug and whispers something about kicking ass and taking names.

And then it’s just Maverick and me, standing in our bedroom while the weight of what’s about to happen settles between us.

“You sure you’re ready for this?” He steps closer.

“Are you sure you’re ready to let me go?” I counter, because I can see the war happening behind his eyes. The part of him that trusts me completely is battling the part that wants to burn down anyone who might threaten me.

Instead of answering, he moves. One step, then another, until I’m backed against the wall beside our dresser. His hands bracket my head, caging me in, and suddenly the air feels charged with electricity.

“Say it again,” he murmurs, voice low and rough.

“Say what?”

“That you’re mine.”

The possessiveness in his voice sends heat shooting through my veins like a drug. This is Maverick at his most dangerous—not the calculating strategist or the business genius, but the man who would burn the world down before letting someone take what belongs to him.

“I’m yours,” I whisper, and his eyes go dark.

“Prove it,” he growls, and then his mouth is on mine.

The kiss is claiming. Consuming. His lips are demanding against mine, tongue sweeping into my mouth like he’s marking territory. One hand tangles in my perfectly styled hair while the other grips my hip, pulling me against him until there’s no space left between us.

I melt into him, my hands fisting in his jacket, and for a moment, the rest of the world disappears. No Carter, no plan, no restaurant full of witnesses. Just Maverick’s mouth on mine and the taste of possession and promise.

When he finally pulls back, we’re both breathing hard, and my lipstick is definitely smudged.

“Now go destroy him,” he says against my lips.

I nod, not trusting my voice, and start to move toward the door. But his hand catches my wrist, stopping me.

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