His innocent wife is a dangerous hacker.

After dinner, the house had settled into a comfortable quiet. The dishes were cleared, the kitchen dark, the staff gone to their quarters. Only the soft glow of the desk lamp remained, casting long shadows across Leo’s study.

Bella sat on his lap, her body curled against his, her new bag open on the desk in front of them. The leather was soft, still new, still smelling faintly of the shop where she had bought it. She reached inside, her fingers brushing against the notebooks she had filled that day.

"I took notes in class," she said, her voice bright with excitement. "And my handwriting has improved. Do you want to see it?"

She was almost bouncing, her enthusiasm spilling over. Her brown hair fell in soft waves around her shoulders, catching the lamplight, framing her face in a way that made her look young and fresh and impossibly beautiful. Her brown eyes were wide, sparkling with pride, her lips parted in a small, eager smile.

She had no idea how she looked right now. No idea how the simple act of showing him her notebook made his chest tighten, his breath catch, his hands want to pull her closer.

"Show me," he said, his voice low and deep. His nose traced the crook of her neck, inhaling her sweet scent. Something floral, something warm, something that was just her. His lips brushed her skin, feather-light, and he felt her shiver.

She pulled out the notebook, flipping to the page where she had written her notes. The ink was blue, the letters neat and even, the words flowing across the page in smooth, controlled lines.

"See?" she said, holding it up for him. She tilted her head, her hair falling over one shoulder, exposing the delicate line of her neck. Her lips were still parted, her tongue darting out to wet them.

Leo’s gray eyes darkened. His jaw tightened.

"Beautiful," he said, but he wasn’t looking at the notebook.

She blushed, looking down at the page. "It’s just handwriting," she said.

"I wasn’t talking about the handwriting," he replied.

Her breath caught. She looked up at him, her brown eyes meeting his gray ones. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips slightly swollen from dinner, her pupils wide and dark.

He set the notebook aside, his large hand covering hers, stilling her movements. His thumb traced small circles on her wrist, feeling the rapid beat of her pulse.

"Tell me about your day," he said, his voice a low rumble. "Every detail."

Her eyes lit up. "The professor called on me to introduce myself. I was so nervous. But I did it," she said.

"Good girl," he murmured.

"And during the lecture, I understood everything. Everything, Leo," she said.

His chest swelled with pride. "Of course you did," he said.

"And at lunch, I sat with Mira. She showed me around the cafeteria," she continued.

His hand moved from her wrist to her waist, his fingers spreading wide, anchoring her to him.

"And then Karl joined us. He also became my friend," she added.

Leo’s hand stilled. The temperature in the room seemed to drop. His gray eyes, which had been soft, turned sharp, predatory.

"Karl," he repeated, his voice flat.

"He’s Mira’s friend. They’re in the same program." She was still smiling, unaware. "He’s a little intense. But I think he’s nice."

"Nice," Leo said coldly.

"He was staring at me all morning. I finally asked him why," she said.

Leo’s jaw tightened. "Staring," he repeated.

"He said he was trying to figure out if I was genuine." She shrugged. "He’s very tall. Dark eyes. Fluffy hair."

Leo’s hand on her waist tightened. His fingers pressed into her flesh, firm, possessive.

"You noticed his eyes," he said.

She blinked. "What?" she asked.

"His eyes. His hair. His height." His voice was low, dangerous. "You noticed everything about him."

"I was just—" she started.

"You described him." His other hand came up, cupping her face, tilting it toward him. "Like he mattered."

"Leo—" she tried.

"He doesn’t matter." His thumb brushed her lower lip, pressing gently. "You’re mine."

She shivered. "I know," she whispered.

"Does he know?" Leo asked.

She swallowed. "I don’t—" she started.

"Does he know you’re married? Does he know you have a husband?" Leo demanded.

Her heart pounded.

"No," she admitted.

"No." He leaned closer, his lips brushing her ear. "Then I’ll have to remind you. Who you belong to."

His hand slid from her face to her throat, feeling her pulse race beneath his palm.

"Leo," she breathed.

"Shh." His lips traced the shell of her ear. "I’m going to take you apart now. Right here. On this desk."

She gasped.

"And when I’m done, you’re going to forget every detail about him. Every feature. Every word." His teeth grazed her earlobe. "The only name you’ll remember is mine."

He stood, lifting her with him, and set her on the edge of the desk. Papers scattered, pens rolled, the notebook fell to the floor. Neither of them noticed.

His body pressed against hers, hard and demanding, his hands gripping her thighs, pushing her skirt up.

"Leo," she breathed.

"Say my name," he commanded.

"Leo."

"Again."

"Leo."

He kissed her, deep and consuming, his tongue sliding against hers, claiming her mouth the way he claimed everything else.

She moaned, her fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer.

He pulled back, looking at her face. Flushed cheeks. Swollen lips. Dark, wanting eyes.

"Beautiful," he murmured. "Mine."

He kissed her throat, her collarbone, the swell of her breasts through her thin sweater. His hands pushed the fabric up, exposing her stomach, her ribs, the lace of her bra.

"MINE," he said against her skin.

She arched into him, her body responding to every touch, every word.

He unhooked her bra, his hands cupping her breasts, his thumbs brushing her nipples until she gasped.

"Leo, please," she begged.

"Please what?" he asked.

"Please—" she started.

He kissed her again, swallowing her words, and lowered her onto the desk.

The wood was cool against her back, but his body was hot, pressing her down, pinning her in place.

He looked at her, sprawled beneath him, her hair spread across the desk, her eyes dark and wanting.

"Look at you," he murmured. "So beautiful. So mine."

She reached for him, pulling him down, and then she saw her after a long time.

Her bad angel. Leaning against the bookshelf, arms crossed, dark red lips curved in a smirk.

"Jealous king~~" she purred, blowing a kiss.

Bella bit her lip.

"You love it," the bad angel whispered. "You love when he’s like this. Dark. Rough. Possessive."

Leo’s hands slid higher, pushing her skirt up her thighs.

"You want him to mark you," the bad angel continued. "To claim you. To make sure everyone knows."

Bella’s heart pounded.

The bad angel stepped closer, her lips brushing Bella’s ear. "You want him to ruin you for anyone else."

Then she was gone.

Bella pulled Leo down, her lips brushing his ear. "Take me. Right here. I want to feel you tomorrow. When I walk across campus. When Karl looks at me."

Leo growled.

"I want to remember," she whispered, "that I’m yours."

He kissed her, hard and deep, and she kissed him back, her legs wrapping around his waist.

The lamp flickered.

And Leo took her, right there on the desk, claiming her in every way possible.