Nathan’s POV

When Jackson entered back into the room, the tension felt thick enough to choke on. Every second I stood before him, I could feel his power pressing against mine, not just physical, but psychological. This was his home, his rules, his stage. And I was the audience, forced to watch the act play out exactly as he wanted.

He leaned back in his chair, swirling his glass of wine lazily. The dim chandelier light cast sharp shadows across his smug face.

“You really think you can ...