Page 76 of Take Me Under

His voice was firm, leaving no room for doubt or space for me to question his decision. Looking down, I picked up the piece of paper.

This is too easy—too simple.

After all the back and forth, the teasing, the power plays, I didn’t understand why he would just hand over five hundred thousand dollars.

I hesitated, my gaze flicking from the form to Anton.

“So that’s it? You’re just giving me the money. No stipulations. No games.”

He leaned in, his presence commanding. His gaze locked onto mine, dark and unrelenting. “The stipulation is that you don’t go back on your word. I don’t play games with the things I want, princess. And I want this—I want you.”

A war waged inside me. I wasn’t used to things being givenso freely, especially from men like Anton Romano. But there was no deception in his face. Just absolute certainty.

He gestured to the paper. “Write down your bank details, Serena. Let’s get this done.”

I exhaled slowly, glancing down at the form once more, still unable to believe what he was offering. The only thing he required was my bank information. There wasn’t even a signature line binding me to my verbal promise.

Reaching for my phone, I pulled up my banking app. After I verified the numbers, I copied the information onto the form.

Anton didn’t look away. He just watched me, his presence a tangible force pressing in around me. As I finished writing, a strange mix of relief and apprehension settled in my chest. I wasn’t sure if I had just won this game of chess or if I had set myself up for a checkmate.

I handed the paper back to Anton.

“Good. I’m glad we got that business out of the way,” he said with a nod. After folding the paper and placing it back inside the envelope, his eyes landed on my drawing of the swan. “I see you’re hard at work already.”

“Just sketching out what I want to create. It helps if I have a visual before I begin molding the glass. The gallery wanted something distinctive. The swan will take several days to complete, but if I capture it right, I hope it’ll catch a good price.”

His gaze swept over me, moving slowly up and down my body. He wasn’t even trying to be subtle. “You didn’t want to create more flames like the ones in New York?”

Warmth spread through me, and I flushed. I hated that he could slip past my defenses so easily. All it took was a look and a few well-placed words, and I was putty in his hands. It was frustrating and intoxicating all at the same time.

“I’ve already told you. The flames felt incomplete until I saw them with that statue.”

“So why don’t you create a different glass version of the woman instead? Perhaps in your own likeness.”

My face flushed an even deeper shade of pink, and I looked away. Moving over to my tools, I said, “Even if I wanted to, my oven isn’t large enough to create something that big.”

“I could buy you a bigger oven.”

I suppressed an eyeroll and retrieved a fresh blowpipe. Ignoring his comment, I asked, “Are you ready to watch me work?”

His lips curved. “I was hoping for something a little more interactive.”

I raised a brow. “Oh?”

“I don’t want to just watch you. I want to try.” He leaned against the worktable, arms crossing over his chest as he studied me. His expression was full of mischief with a hint of desire smoldering in those ruthless onyx eyes.

I laughed. “Get whatever you’re thinking right out of your head. This won’t be like the movies. There won’t be any sexy Demi Moore and Patrick Swayze pottery moments while the oven is on. The heat will melt your skin from your bones if you’re not careful. It’s best if I show you first.”

I gestured for him to follow me. The heat had built to full strength now, making the air around the furnace thick and heavy. Beads of sweat gathered at the back of my neck almost instantly, and Anton tugged at the collar of his shirt before rolling up his sleeves.

“First lesson,” I said, dipping the end of my pipe into the furnace to gather the red-hot glass. “You need to keep the liquid glass moving. If it stays still too long, gravity takes over, and you lose control.”

He watched intently as I turned the pipe, the glowing blob of molten glass clinging to the end like honey. When I pulled it out, it pulsed with heat, the color shifting between bright orange anddeep gold. I moved to the marver, rolling it against the smooth surface to shape it before glancing at him.

“Stand behind me and give me your hands—but no funny business. I don’t want either of us to get burned.”

Anton stepped behind me, his body close enough that I felt his warmth even against the oppressive heat coming off the furnace.

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