He was on a fucking date.

Just like she wanted. He'd agreed to take her to some opera house ball. You won't regret it, she'd said. Yeah, he fucking regretted it. Everything except how damn good she looked in that golden dress that she borrowed from Claudia, with the low neckline kissing her barely-there cleavage. Already he couldn't wait to drag her home and rip off the layers of whatever the fuck her skirt was made out of and fuck her until she screamed.

He didn't ...