Hunter’s grip around her waist tightened as his deep voice rolled out across the table like a command, low and filled with dominance.
“Well… if you must know,” his smirk curved wickedly, “this is Mirabella. And she is mine.”
The way he said mine shook her chest. It wasn’t just a word. It was a claim, prison, fire, and something darker than she could explain. She flushed instantly, her face hot with embarrassment. Every pair of eyes at the long table swung to her, and Mirabella wanted the floor to open up and swallow her whole.
Hunter didn’t care. His smirk only deepened, his thumb rubbing slow circles against her hip as if daring her to move an inch.
“She was Antonio's daughter, I'm sure you lots know him well. Now, she’s mine with no apology,” he added, his voice laid enough for those
