I should have left.
Should have thanked him for the evening, walked out of his world before I got lost in it.
But I didn't.
Instead, I stayed.
Holding his gaze, testing the weight of his words, the unspoken tension between us like a current pulling me deeper.
Lawrence set his glass down and stepped closer, his movements slow, deliberate. "You don't believe me, do you?"
I exhaled. "No."
His smirk was faint, almost amused. "Smart girl."
He was toying with me. Testing me.
And yet, I wasn't backing down.
I tilted my chin. "So what happens now? You've made your move, said your piece. Should I be impressed?"
He chuckled, shaking his head. "I don't need to impress you, Ivanna. I need you to understand me."
I crossed my arms. "Understand what?"
His expression shifted—dark, unreadable. "That in my world, power is everything. Control is everything."
"And I suppose you always have control?"
His jaw tightened, just a fraction. "Until you walked in wearing that damn dress."
A slow heat curled in my stomach.
I should have looked away, should have ignored the way his voice dropped lower, rougher.
But I didn't.
"Then maybe," I said softly, stepping just close enough to challenge him, "you're not as in control as you think."
Something flickered in his eyes—something dangerous.
His fingers ghosted over my wrist, barely touching, but the weight of it was enough to send a shiver through me.
"You want to test me, Ivanna?" His voice was pure velvet, dark and rich. "Because I don't think you're ready for what happens when you do."
My breath hitched.
Because the worst part?
I wanted to find out.
The space between us wasn't just physical—it was a charged, invisible battlefield where neither of us wanted to be the first to surrender.
His words, low and deliberate, wrapped around me like a silk noose. You want to test me?
I should have stepped back. Should have laughed it off, brushed past him, and let the moment die.
But I didn't.
Instead, I tilted my chin, locking onto his gaze. "Maybe I do."
Something in him shifted—just a flicker, a shadow of something dangerous beneath his carefully controlled exterior.
Then, before I could fully process what was happening, his fingers caught my wrist. Not rough, not forceful—just enough to tether me to the moment, to remind me that he was real, that this was real.
"You don't know what you're asking for," he murmured, his voice a slow drag of heat against my skin.
My pulse pounded in my throat. "Then show me."
A slow, wicked smile curved his lips, but there was something else in his eyes—something deeper, unreadable.
He raised our joined hands slightly, watching me as he brushed his thumb along the inside of my wrist.
"Careful, Ivanna," he warned. "Once you step past this line, you don't get to take it back."
My breath was shallow, my heart slamming against my ribs.
Was this a game? A test? Or was it something more?
I exhaled. "Then maybe it's time to find out."
The challenge was there, hanging between us.
And just like that, he made his move.
Slow. Controlled.
He closed the final inches between us, his hand sliding up my arm, over my shoulder, tracing the bare skin above the neckline of my dress.
And then—
His fingers curled beneath my chin, tilting my face up to his.
"Last chance," he murmured.
I didn't move.
Didn't breathe.
And then his lips met mine.
It wasn't tentative. It wasn't hesitant.
It was fire meeting gasoline. A slow, deep, consuming kiss that sent shockwaves through me.
A warning. A promise.
And the first real line I had willingly crossed.