The man filming Caspian tilted his phone forward, smirking as he read aloud from his device. “Harrington, huh? Says here you’re the second wealthiest guy in Canada, and Daddy Dearest is number one. You even played rugby for Team Canada at the Olympics. Let me guess—that’s where the steroid allegations come from.”

Caspian’s glare could have melted steel. “If I were on steroids, idiot, they would’ve kicked me out of the sport. You’d know that if you had two functioning brain cells.” His voice turned sharp and venomous as he gestured toward the onlooker still recording. “And while we’re on the subject, my father owns Harrington Telecom. So that moron with his phone? He’s probably using data my family provides to invade my privacy and livestream this unlawful detention.”

One of the officers, holding his wallet, raised an eyebrow. “Out of curiosity, did you win any medals?”

“No.”

“Still, must’ve been a hell of an honor to compete though, right?” the same officer teased, a chuckle escaping him.

“Go to hell.” Caspian shot back without hesitation. His patience had worn down to nothing. “Are you planning to arrest me, or am I free to leave?”

“Where’s the girl?” another officer interjected, an undeniable edge in his tone.

“What girl?”

“The report said you left one woman back at the restaurant but chased another into the street. One witness claims she was forced into a car. Care to explain? It’s not the wildest thing to imagine someone like you pulling that kind of stunt.”

Caspian’s hands flexed and curled into fists. “I didn’t arrange for anyone to be taken anywhere. That ‘girl’ is my best friend’s little sister. She thought it’d be hilarious to sabotage my date as some absurd prank.”

“Got anyone who can confirm that? How about her number? We’ll give her a call.”

“Her name’s Perdita Blackwood,” he responded through gritted teeth. “And no, I don’t have her number. Maybe you can find it for me so my lawyers can reach out and press assault charges.”

The cop studying him rolled his eyes. “Really? You’re serious? A man of your size, pressing charges against someone who barely tops five-four and maybe a hundred ten pounds?” His pointed look raked over Caspian’s six-foot-four frame, clear skepticism dripping from his voice.

“Am I free to go or not?” Caspian’s irritation reached its apex, his body taut with exasperation.

The officer shook his head. “Not until we verify your story. You’re going to sit tight in the cruiser while we figure this out, make sure she’s safe, and confirm you didn’t pull any billionaire-style bullshit.”

“How could I have possibly done that?” Caspian shot back, incredulous. “Do you even hear how stupid you sound? I was sitting in the restaurant. She jumped out at me. How the hell would I plan a kidnapping if I didn’t even know she’d show up?!”

The officer chuckled, unimpressed. “Don’t rich guys like you keep a small army of bodyguards on standby?”

A sharp pain shot through Caspian’s jaw as he clenched his teeth, fury barely contained. “I was on a date. In a part of this city where I’m not recognized because I haven’t set foot in it for years. And by the way, I can take care of myself, no entourage needed.”

Before an answer came, Caspian’s phone lit up with an incoming call from an unknown number. He lifted it, glancing at the officer. “Can I take this?”

The officer gave him a silent nod.

Caspian answered briskly, “Hello?”

“You’re trending, you idiot!” Perdita’s voice rang with clear amusement, laughter bursting from her background.

Caspian’s grip on the phone tightened dangerously. “For crying out loud, Lark, I’m going to tan your hide red.” His voice seethed with frustration.

“Oh, promises, promises,” Perdita purred, unbothered by his threat. “Listen, big guy, I can put a stop to this little fiasco. But, naturally, I want something in return.”

“And what would that be?” Caspian barked, though curiosity prickled beneath his irritation.

“I want you to be the model for my next book cover.”

The absurdity of her demand made him falter. “What the hell are you talking about? Since when do you even write books?”

“Well, Sherlock, I write fiction,” she responded sarcastically. “This particular project features a hot detective. You’ve got the look. Say yes and I’ll call off this circus.”

His eyes narrowed. “Fine.”

“Oh no, not so fast.” Her tone turned sweet, but sickly so. “I want you to say it to the guy streaming this fiasco. On camera. No backing out later—I’m recording, by the way.”

Caspian exhaled a short, exasperated breath before stepping toward the person filming. “Fine. Perdita Blackwood, you have my permission to put my face on your stupid book cover.”

“Perfect! Now, hand the phone to the cops. I’ll clear things up.”

With evident reluctance, Caspian held out the device to the officer. “She wants to talk to you.”

The officer set the phone to speaker. “This is Officer Walsh.”

Perdita’s voice changed drastically, switching to an alluring, sultry tone that dripped with mischief. “Oh, hi, Officer. You’ll have to forgive poor Caspian. We’ve been in a rather—uh—risqué arrangement for years. Wouldn’t you know it, the man’s just shy about it. You see, he’s my big brother’s best friend, and he was hesitant since I was barely legal when we started. My dad would kill us if he knew.”

Caspian’s jaw fell slack. The absolute gall of this woman.

Perdita went on without pause. “Our relationship’s a little unconventional. We’re very into role-play. And tonight? Well, tonight’s scene was me interrupting his date. I guess I may have gone overboard because, let me tell you, the woman was stunning and made me feel… well, competitive. I got carried away with the wine throwing—okay, two glasses instead of one. It happens. But I swear to you, it’s all consensual. He’s probably pissed because, well…” she giggled wickedly, “he’s just so worked up right now. Bet he’s about to bust his zipper.”

Half the officer’s face twitched in disbelief.

Then came her nail in the coffin. “Caspian, sweetie, I’m waiting at home in my leather harness, just desperate for you to punish me for my bad behavior. Oh, and don’t forget the spanking. Hurry up, big guy.”

The line clicked off, leaving a stunned silence.

The officer, trying to recover, fumbled as he handed Caspian’s phone and wallet back. “Uh… our bad, sir. Maybe keep the roleplay stuff a bit more private next time?”

Caspian ripped his possessions from the man’s grip, muttering, “Screw off.” He was too furious to even argue further, stalking toward his car.

Sliding into the driver’s seat, he reveled in the relative silence, though his chest still heaved with lingering rage. But then a new emotion snuck in, one he didn’t want to acknowledge. Replaying her sultry tone in his head, Caspian felt a familiar, unwelcome stirring.

Staring down at the evidence of his unwanted reaction, he growled under his breath, “Oh, for fuck’s sake. Get it together.”