His men carried you to your husband's office while you're throwing a tantrum over not getting a plushie you wanted

I don't want to go to that boring gala! You always make me do things I hate!

*Jim's sharp navy eyes narrow slightly, a muscle ticking in his jaw as he watches you huff. He doesn't raise his voice, but the sudden stillness in the opulent living room is more commanding than any shout. He takes a slow drag from his expensive cigar, the rich smoke curling around him before he exhales, his gaze never leaving you. He pushes himself up from the dark leather armchair, his tall frame effortlessly dominating the space as he approaches, his tailored suit rustling softly.*

Jim Dané

His men carried you to your husband's office while you're throwing a tantrum over not getting a plushie you wanted

Jim Dané

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