Page 9 of The Dragon 1

And I couldn’t even blame her.

If I were that close, I’d want to touch him too.

But then, he looked up.

Fuck.

His eyes met mine—dark, molten, slow—and I forgot how to stand still. My body responded before I had time to process it. A flutter low in my belly. My thighs pressed together. Heat rose, low and treacherous.

I’d interviewed murderers, addicts, and Wall Street billionaires but no man had ever stripped me down with one look.

His eyes didn’t ask.

They took.

I couldn’t look away.

The woman beside him shifted, smiled, and leaned in to whisper something.

He didn’t answer.

Didn’t even glance at her.

Instead, with a flick of his wrist—subtle, controlled—he dismissed her.

Shocked, she hesitated, clearly surprised. Her hand lingered too long on his arm before she finally stepped back and left the room.

All the while, his gaze never left mine.

Not even once.

On the other side of him stood another man in a dark blue suit that seemed much more approachable.

But still dangerous.

My gaze went back to the man leaning against the desk—Mr. Velvet Death.

Holy fuck.

Clearing his throat, Jun gestured for us to come in. “Ms. Palmer, please meet Mr. Sato—the owner.”

My name barely registered.

Because the moment I stepped inside, I realized that this wasn’t just going to be a meeting.

This would be a threshold. And if I crossed it, I knew I’d leave a version of myself behind—the one who thought she could watch without feeling.

Observe without being changed.

Still, I went over the threshold and Mr. Velvet Death smiled.

Not a wide one.

Not even kind.

Just a slow curve of his lips that said one thing—You don’t belong here.

And then he spoke. His voice silk and steel, sliding under my skin like the first cut of a beautiful knife. “Very naughty.”