Page 110 of House Rules

But for now, there are other things that need my attention.

I head into my room, needing to reset with my post-scene ritual.

The shower is already running before my shirt hits the floor. Steam clouds the mirror and fogs the glass door, curling around me like a living thing. I step into the scalding spray, tilting my head back until it burns enough to feel clean. The water bites at my skin, but that’s the point—it strips away everything that clings, seen and unseen.

This isn’t about Phoenix. She isn’t dirty. She’s nothing like the other women we’ve brought up here—nothing like the kind who leave me feeling the need to sterilize myself after fucking them. This is about control. About returning to baseline. About making sure that what just happened doesn’t leave a mark on me that I didn’t choose.

I scrub every inch of my body with a boar-bristle brush until my skin is flushed and tender. I like the sting—it reminds me I’m still in charge of what I feel. When I’m satisfied, I move to skincare: rich, dense creams that smell of tobacco, vanilla, leather. Each scent settling over me like armor.

When I’m done, I slide into Tom Ford boxers, tailored black slacks, a crisp white shirt. Cufflinks. Watch. The weight of them grounds me. I finish with Tom Ford Noir Extreme cologne, the final seal on the persona.

Being impeccably dressed at all times isn’t just preference—it’s strategy. The man who looks like he’s in controlisin control.

I cross into the walk-in closet I’ve turned into a home office. Black glass desk. Four-monitor rig—smaller than what I’m used to, but it does the job. My leather executive chair creaks as I sit, pulling the laptop toward me.

I work in silence for hours, scanning reports, financial trails, chatter from places that require the right kind of access.

Three hours in, I hit a roadblock so infuriating I take off my shoe and hurl it across the bedroom. It hits the drywall with a dull thud, leaving a dent. I’m not in the “official” office, so it doesn’t matter. I’ll have it patched tomorrow. By the weekend, there won’t be any sign I lost control, even for a second.

I draw in a slow breath through my nose, counting to five. In my head, the sound of my belt hitting Phoenix’s skin repeats in perfect rhythm. Next time, it’ll have to be to ten, so I can record each one in my mind and call them up whenever I need to steady myself.

Before I leave to update the others, I make a call.

The line clicks twice before a man answers, voice rough and amused. “Didn’t expect to hear from you, little Titan.”

“You should have,” I say evenly, shoving my glasses further up the bridge of my nose. “I’m calling about the Jones debt. I’ll take it. In full.”

There’s a pause, then a low chuckle. “You’ll take it? You mean you’llpayit.”

“I’ll pay double. Cash. Today. And you’ll never go near her again.”

“You think this is about money now?” The smile in his voice curdles into something darker. “It was. Until your boy got a little too fucking enthusiastic with my man.”

“He put his hands on her. He deserved it.”

“Mm. Yeah, well, We don’t need to argue about whys and wherefores. The fact is, it happened. And it’s a problem.”

I start to reply but he cuts me off,ah-ah-ahhinguntil I fall silent.

“Normally I could take a pass, accept the payment of the debt and the extra as enough. I don’t takethings like that too personal. Not exactly. But he was my wife’s cousin, see. And that changes the balance. Money’s clean. But when it’s family, blood’s cleaner.”

My grip tightens on the phone. “You don’t touch her.”

“She’s already marked, Wynn. Question is whether it’s by you…or by us.”

The call ends without a goodbye. I stare at the dead line, jaw locked.

Fuck.

The others need to know what I’ve found.

I step into the living room. Con is stretched out on the couch, Phoenix draped over him, her bare skin hidden under a towel. She’s asleep, lips parted, hair spilling across his chest. He scrolls idly on his phone, one arm curled protectively around her.

It shouldn’t bother me. But it does.

“We have a problem,” I say, taking off my glasses and pinching the bridge of my nose to ease the tension building behind my eyes.

“I fail to see how we could possibly have a problem right now.” Con doesn’t look up.