Alaric’s POV:

That was the sound the bottle made when it came in contact with the desk, right by his fingers.

“Shit,” he cursed in fear, starting to move his hand.

“Don’t fucking move those hands,” I gritted out. My gaze shifted to the dent on my desk.

There was no damage to the bottle. Just my desk.

Fucking hell. I loved this desk. I had plans of bringing Meadow here, bending her over and fucking her from behind.

But maybe… maybe this wasn’t so bad. I’d have a new one ...