Viola tiptoed toward the door like she was auditioning for a spy movie.
Mack's house was quiet. Too quiet.She paused by the hall, listening, holding her shoes in one hand like a thief. She was still in his T-shirt and leggings, hair in a frizzy bun, makeup smudged from the night before — basically, the picture of sneaky morning-after glory.
"I am a ninja," she whispered to herself, slipping her foot into her sneaker and wincing as it squeaked.
Meanwhile…
In his home office upstairs, Mack leaned back in his chair, sipping his coffee, watching her live on the security feed like she was his favorite morning show.
He smirked.
Viola reached for the front door, only to freeze when she noticed something.A tiny black camera mounted just above the porch light.
Her face dropped. She blinked. Then blinked again.
"Oh, espresso-scented betrayal…" she muttered, shoulders stiffening.
She slowly turned to look down the hallway—just in time to hear a deep voice over the intercom speaker.
"Going somewhere, trouble?"
She let out a yelp, spinning like a caught teenager.
"Are you serious?!"
The intercom crackled again. "Shoes in your hand. Hair in a mess. Caught red-handed. You planning on ditching me, sweetheart?"
Viola growled. "I was getting coffee!"
"You have coffee here."
"I wanted other coffee!"
Silence.
Then:"Get back here, you criminally sexy little brat. You're not walking out looking like that. I need hazard pay just letting you near the street."
Her mouth opened and closed. "You're insane."
"I'm yours," came the smug reply. "Now be a good girl and walk your fine ass back into the house before I drag you in myself."
She flipped off the camera with two fingers. "You wouldn't dare."
A pause.
Then the sound of footsteps. Heavy ones. Coming down the stairs fast.
Her eyes widened.
"Shit."
She sprinted back inside, slamming the door behind her and locking it just as Mack appeared in the hallway—shirtless, sweatpants slung low on his hips, looking like a damn Greek statue with a glock tucked at his side.
"You locked me out of my own house?" he said, one brow raised.
Viola gasped, spun around, and tried to run again—but he was faster.
Mack caught her around the waist and hoisted her up, laughing while she kicked.
"No! Let go, you cave man!"
"Call me caveman again and see how long I keep you in bed next time."
"You're impossible!"
"You love it."
He tossed her over his shoulder, swatting her backside lightly as she squealed.
"Put me down!"
"Not a chance, baby. Next time, ask for coffee like a normal person."
Viola sat on the kitchen counter, arms folded, still pouting from being manhandled like a bag of sugar.Mack, very shirtless and very smug, was at the espresso machine like he was auditioning for a "Hot Dads Who Brew" calendar. Every movement exaggerated. Deliberate.
She glared. "You're doing that on purpose."
He didn't look up. "Doing what?"
"Flexing every muscle in your body just to steam oat milk."
He looked over his shoulder, smirking. "Sweetheart, this isn't flexing. This is just... existing."
Viola groaned, hiding her smile behind her hand. "You're the worst."
"No, I'm the reward for not sneaking out of my house."
He poured the coffee into a giant mug with the words "SASSY PANTS" printed on the front — she had no idea where he even got that. Then he walked over and handed it to her, standing way too close.
She looked up, blinking. "Did you just give me sass-coffee while half-naked?"
Mack leaned in, voice low. "I'd serve it to you fully naked if you'd stop trying to escape every morning."
Viola took a slow sip, eyes locked on his. "Then maybe I should try sneaking out more often."
He raised an eyebrow. "Dangerous words for a woman sitting on my counter in nothing but my T-shirt."
"Maybe I like danger."
"You do." He leaned closer, brushing her bare thigh with the back of his hand. "But the question is... do you like me more?"
She stared at him, heart thudding, the scent of coffee and skin flooding her senses.
And then—
Her stomach growled. Loudly.
They both froze.
Mack blinked. Viola clapped a hand over her gut. "Betrayed. By my own body."
He burst out laughing.
"Guess I've got to feed you and keep you from escaping. High-maintenance much?"
Viola narrowed her eyes. "You kidnapped me."
"You tried to sneak out first."
"I wasn't sneaking! I was—"
"—sneaky," he finished, pressing his mouth to the corner of hers. "Next time you want to run, just tell me where. I'll drive you."
She softened. "Even if I want to go to... Paris?"
"Only if I get to tie you to the seat with my belt."
"Mack!"
He shrugged, deadpan. "Safety first." Just as Mack leaned in for another slow kiss, a loud knock echoed through the apartment — hard, fast, and uninvited.
Viola flinched, the rim of her coffee cup clinking against her teeth.
Mack didn't move.
He just exhaled slowly, the light in his eyes shifting from flirtation to something darker. Sharper. A predator sensing intrusion.
"Stay here," he said, already turning toward the front door.
Viola blinked. "Wait—who—?"
But he was already gone, the lazy tease from seconds ago replaced by the calculating, dangerous man who clearly wasn't just a pretty face with good espresso skills.
She slid off the counter, padding behind him quietly, curiosity outweighing obedience. She peeked from the kitchen as Mack opened the door — just a crack.
His voice was low. Controlled.
"You've got five seconds to tell me why you're here. Make them count."
A man's voice answered, too muffled for her to catch the words — but she caught the tone. Nervous. A little desperate.
Mack stepped outside, closing the door behind him with a quiet finality.
Viola stood frozen, coffee cooling in her hand.
Okay... not your average friendly visitor.
A minute passed. Then two. Then five.
She'd just started tiptoeing toward the door when Mack returned, calm and unreadable — but she noticed the tension in his jaw. The careful way he shut the door behind him.
"Everything okay?" she asked.
He nodded once. "Work."
"Bad work?"
His eyes flicked to hers. "It's handled."
Viola studied him. "Do I need to grab my heels or my pepper spray?"
A twitch of a smirk. "Neither, little savage."
She crossed her arms. "I don't like being left in the dark."
"I know," he said, stepping close again, hand brushing down her arm. "Which is why I'm going to tell you... just not while you're still holding hot coffee."