58

58

Mason's POV

The candles flickered softly on the table, casting warm shadows across the private dining room. I had spared no expense tonight—white roses, Bethany's favorite, adorned every corner. The table was set with the finest silverware, and a chilled bottle of her preferred wine rested in an ice bucket beside me. The atmosphere screamed romance, even though that was not my intention for arranging this dinner date between the both of us. I was even surprised she agreed to come here.

This wasn't about love or reconciliation. It was about control, about reminding Bethany that she belonged to me.

When she arrived finally, her expression was hesitant and guarded, I felt a pang of satisfaction. She wore a simple black dress, nothing flashy, but it hugged her figure in all the right ways. Her hair was loose, cascading over her shoulders, and the sight of her stirred something primal in me.