Scent of Surrender

He stopped a few feet from the couch, meeting her piercing gaze. "I went to see how things are at the yacht. The security team is handling everything well."

Her eyes narrowed, and she stepped closer, invading his personal space with deliberate authority. "You didn't call me first. That's against our rules, baby. Why didn't you pick up your phone?"

Trey swallowed hard, the tension in his shoulders radiating heat into the air. He should have known better than to break their unspoken code. "I was with a client, babe. I lost service for a while."

She reached out and curled her fingers around his chin, tilting his head up until he was forced to look at her. The light in her eyes was sharp and calculating. "That's not the whole truth, Trey. You know better than to keep secrets from me."

He closed his eyes for a moment, gathering his composure. When he opened them again, his gaze was steady. "I didn't see anything that mattered, Kiana. I just wanted to make sure the guys didn't lose their minds without you here to hold them together."

She let go of him, stepping back with a sharp exhale. Trey watched as she walked to the small bar in the corner, pouring herself a glass of wine with deliberate precision. The red liquid settled in the crystal glass like blood in an offering.

"Sit down, Trey. You know the rules: no excuses unless you're giving me the whole truth."

He sank onto the couch, the cushions sinking under his weight. His mind was racing, trying to anticipate her next move. Kiana never did anything without reason, and whatever she wanted tonight, he knew it wouldn't be easy.

She came to stand beside him, her perfume mingling with the scent of sweat and tension in the air. "Look at me, Trey."

He met her gaze, the room spinning into slow motion. Her eyes were dark with power and heat, and for a moment he forgot everything else. "I'm listening, babe."

She ran her fingers through his hair, pulling him closer until their foreheads touched. The contact was electric, grounding him in the present even as it drove him insane with desire. "Tell me what you saw at the club tonight, honey. Every single detail. Don't leave anything out."

The confession ritual always started here: the surrender of his sight and memory to her command. Trey closed his eyes, letting go of his guard. The club flashed before his mind's eye—shadows dancing on mirrors, the rhythmic throb of bass, the electric charge of a thousand bodies moving as one.