Yannis Fenn left the dinner table with a tightness in his chest that had nothing to do with the wine.
The evening should have gone differently. He had planned it carefully — the restaurant, the lighting, the pacing of conversation.
But Ares had been there the entire time, looming without trying, inserting himself into every pause, every glance, every chance Yannis might have had to be alone with Lara.
Not just an interruption. A barrier.
A thorn lodged deep — and Yannis had no intention of letting it stay there.
When he was back, he finally could not restrain himself.
"Ares," he said at last, voice smooth but edged with steel, "may I have a private word with Larissa?"
Most men would have softened the request. But not Yannis.
Years of psychiatry had stripped him of the instinct to tiptoe around powerful people. He said what others only rehearsed in their heads — even when the man across from him was the most feared tycoon in Lanura.
