Page 3 of Controlled By the Virgo

"Trying to steal from me, huh?" His anger is palpable, and I can feel the heat of his frustration radiating off him like a furnace. "Do you have any idea who I am?"

"Obviously, I do," I retort, my voice shaking despite my attempts to sound confident. "That's why I tried to take your wallet, Mr. Billionaire Executive."

"Van," he corrects me sharply, the word a command that sends shivers down my spine. "My name is Van. And you're going to regret crossing me, sweetheart."

"Is that a threat?" I challenge him, green eyes locked on his blue ones, refusing to back down even though my insides are quivering like jelly. "Because I don't respond well to threats."

"Consider it a promise," Van replies, his voice low and dangerous. "You have no idea what you've gotten yourself into, but trust me – you won't be walking away from this unscathed."

"Neither will you," I whisper, defiance surging through me like electricity as I meet his gaze head-on, unwilling to let him see how scared I really am.

For a moment, we stand there on the sidewalk outside the diner, our eyes locked in a battle of wills, neither of us willing to break the connection.

Suddenly, his grip on my wrist loosens ever so slightly, and I'm caught off guard by the change in his demeanor. His piercing blue eyes soften, and it's as if he's seeing me for the first time. The anger in his expression shifts to something else – fascination.

"Wait," he murmurs, his voice barely audible over the sound of my pounding heart. "There's something about you."

"What are you talking about?" I snap, trying to tug my wrist free from his grasp, but he doesn't let go. Instead, he seems captivated, studying my face like a rare piece of art.

"Your eyes," he says, almost breathlessly. "They're... extraordinary."

"Are you serious right now?" I can't help but scoff at his sudden shift in attitude. One moment, he's seething with anger, and the next, he's waxing poetic about my eyes? This man is infuriating and utterly confusing.

"Dead serious," he replies, his gaze never leaving mine. "And your defiance, your spirit – it's unlike anything I've ever seen before."

"Great." I roll my expressive green eyes, trying to downplay the flutter in my chest his words cause. "You think I'm pretty and fiery. Now can you let me go?"

"Actually, no," Van says, his tone firm once again. "I still need to teach you a lesson for trying to steal from me."

"Seriously?" I groan, attempting to yank my arm away one more time, but his grip remains steadfast. "What is it with you and control? You win, okay? I won't try to steal from you again. Can we just move on?"

Van contemplates my words for a moment, his eyes narrowing as if he's weighing his options. "Fine," he finally acquiesces, releasing my wrist. "But I want to see you again."

"Excuse me?" I rub my now free wrist, trying to comprehend the absurdity of his request. "You catch me attempting to pickpocket you, and now you want to...what? Date me?"

"Not a date," he clarifies, taking a step back, as if giving me space to breathe. "I just...feel this connection between us. Don't you?"

"Connection?" I balk at the suggestion. The only connection I feel is the one between his hand and my bruised wrist. "You're delusional."

"Maybe I am," Van concedes with a smirk, his arrogance rearing its ugly head once more. "But I still want to see you again."

"Fine." I relent, not because I'm interested in him – far from it – but because I need to keep him off my back. "One meeting. And then we can both go our separate ways."

"Agreed." He nods, satisfied with my begrudging acceptance.

As I watch him walk away, I can't help but wonder what I've gotten myself into. Meeting him again could be a colossal mistake, but somehow, deep down, I'm curious to find out just what lies beneath that infuriating exterior.

* * *

I shift my weight from one foot to the other, anxiety gnawing at my insides as I stand outside the upscale bistro where we agreed to meet. A gust of wind sends a shiver down my spine, causing goosebumps to form on my exposed arms. My usual uniform of jeans and a simple blouse feels inadequate for this meeting. Van Carter, billionaire executive and now... pickpocket target, is supposed to meet me here tonight.

"Valerie," he calls out, his voice smooth as silk yet firm enough to send tendrils of electricity down my spine. I reluctantly look up, and our eyes lock. In that instant, an intense connection passes between us, like a live wire sizzling with untamed energy. His piercing blue eyes seem to see right through me, stripping away any defenses I might have erected. I can't help but take in the sight of him – his tailored suit clinging to his muscular frame and his dark hair swept back from his chiseled jawline. He's infuriatingly handsome, and it's unsettling how easily he affects me.

"Van." My voice wavers slightly, betraying my nerves. "I'm here, as promised."

"Indeed, you are." He holds the door open for me, a hint of amusement playing at the corners of his lips. I hesitate for a moment before stepping inside, acutely aware of the power dynamic between us. As much as I want to deny it, I can't help but feel drawn toward him, like a moth to a flame.

"Is there something specific you wanted to discuss?" I ask, trying to regain some semblance of control over the situation.

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