"You've got a record now, so just let Nellie have the title. But I swear, you're the only one in my heart!"
Christian stepped up behind me. Cold lips pressed against the side of my neck, and he let out a slow, deliberate sound—a wet, suggestive pull of skin that was impossible to misinterpret.
I lowered my lashes. My voice came out laced with contempt.
"Stop calling, Dennis. You make me sick."
The line went dead.
Christian's arms slid around my waist from behind, his burning chest flush against my spine.
"Can't handle it already?"
His long fingers caught a strand of my damp hair and lifted it, his tone dripping with undisguised mockery.
"Your old flame seems pretty convinced you'll crawl back to him like a dog."
I ignored the provocation and closed my eyes.
Five years of hell behind bars had ground my dignity and expectations down to dust.
"Get me a doctor. I need to recover as fast as possible."
I opened my eyes and pulled free from his hold, sweeping a cool gaze across the sprawling estate.
"In three days, at the syndicate summit, I'm going to take back what's mine. Personally."
Christian's eyes narrowed. A thin, derisive smile pressed across his lips.