Victor - Her Ruthless Husband (Ruthless Triad 3)

Pretty in the most natural way. He could see from the start why Kuang’s son set his sights on her when she wandered into the 24K club like a doe into a pack of predators.

The thought of Kuang’s son makes Han wrap his hand around the nape of her neck and stroke a possessive thumb over her cheek as he answers, “I’m making breakfast. I was going to bring it to you in bed. But you’ve ruined that plan.”

Instead of showing remorse, she narrows her eyes suspiciously. “You don’t strike me as a bring a girl breakfast in bed sort of guy.”

“I'm not,” he admits with another possessive stroke of his thumb. “But I wanted to be this man today. For you.”

He holds her gaze as he tells her this, and his chest does something strange when her eyes widen and take on a new, shy softness.

“Okay, well, thanks for wanting to do that,” she mumbles.

But then she pulls away from him and goes over to the stove.

“Just so you know,” she says, reaching up to its hood and pulling little bowls with handles attached down from a hook. “These are measuring cups.”

He lets out a string of chagrined Cantonese words, then holds out his hand. “Okay, give them to me and return to bed.”

Instead of doing as instructed, she presses the cups to her chest and says, “I really like breakfast.”

Han steps closer, his hand still held out. “Good, because I'm going to make it for you.”

She cuts her eyes to the side. “No, I mean, I really like breakfast. I take it very seriously. So maybe you should let me make it, not you.”

Han stills. Here she goes again. Trying to take control.

But their relationship doesn’t work like that.

“Give me the cups, Jasmine,” he tells her, his voice becoming dangerous. “I can handle breakfast.”

“Are you sure about that?” Jasmine asks, wincing. “The fact that you didn't know where to look for the measuring cups is kind of saying to me you can't.”

He steps closer to uncurl the hand at her chest and pry loose the measuring cups as he repeats in a much harder voice, “Return to bed.”

Her eyes flare, and she opens her mouth to argue again. But then Han asks, “Do you really want a repeat of what happened the last time you defied me for no reason?”

He watches her carefully, the flesh between his legs hardening with the prospect of her blatantly defying him again, of having to mete out another punishment.

But she must realize how serious he is about wanting her obedience, even over a matter as trivial as breakfast. The doe backs away from the predator and bolts for the relative safety of the bedroom.

Good. She’s learning.

However, he finds himself wishing he had taken her up on her offer of help an hour later.

“Wow. I didn't know you could burn eggs!” Jasmine says after he sets down the tray in front of her. Now her voice is impressed.

Han didn’t know that either. Or else he would've paid more attention after he put them on top of the stove.

Still, Jasmine takes a huge forkful of the eggs. She’s like that, his little surfer girl. She tends to take big bites, even if she isn't sure how it will turn out. Jasmine should learn to curb herself.

She might not be here with him if not for that particular bad habit of jumping on waves no matter where they’re headed.

And in this instance, her big bite burns her yet again.

“Are these eggs supposed to be crunchy?” she asks with a grimace.

“No,” Han admits.

He takes back the tray in utter defeat and concedes, “We'll go out for breakfast.”

Jasmine’s expression brightens, making her face even prettier. “Awesome. I know the perfect place. It's inside this little organic produce farm that only operates on Sundays. They have the best Loco Moco on the island if you ask me. And get this, barely any tourists know about it, so it’s mostly locals eating there.”

Han inwardly frowns at her homey description of this venue. Flashy would be better. The whole point of this was for him to be seen with her in places that would be reported back to Kuang's son.

Is that really the point? Still? a voice inside of him asks. Han does not like that it seems to be originating from his chest and not his head.

He ignores the voice.

“No,” he replies. “Get showered and put on makeup and something nice. We’re going to The Royal Hawaiian.”

Jasmine's happy expression dims. She hates getting dressed up and would probably live in shorts and oversized T-shirts if Han didn’t insist on her putting in an effort to look like someone a Dragon would date.

The coconut farm is probably the kind of place where she feels completely comfortable dressing as she likes. Guilt nibbles at Han as she sulks off to the bathroom.