Marta didn't back down. The primitive energy he exuded, a thick, intoxicating musk of oak smoke and pure masculine heat, was invading her sophisticated space, blurring the lines between her calculated power and an ancient, raw need. The sapphire silk of her blouse was practically fused to her skin, the humidity turning the fabric translucent, a tantalizing display of the curves she usually kept hidden under tailored layers. Her diamond watch felt heavy, a vulgar symbol of superficial wealth against the fundamental, earthbound power he radiated.

She took a deliberate step forward, eliminating the small space remaining between them. She was a full foot shorter, but she forced him to meet her gaze, her smoky-quartz eyes narrowing with a dangerous, electric thrill. "I didn't come to talk about prices, Ivar. I came to talk about heat." She raised a pale, delicate hand, her perfect manicure contrasting violently with the blackened air. She didn't touch him—not yet—but her fingers hovered just inches from his sweat-slicked pectoral muscle. The heat rising from his body was intense, a localized fire that made her skin prickle. "You play with fire, but can you handle the blaze when it’s aimed at you?"

Ivar chuckled, a low, tectonic vibration that seemed to rise from the earth and settled directly in her chest. The sound made her stomach flip, a primal response to the sheer force he carried. He stepped back, a single, fluid movement that was surprisingly agile for a man of his size. He grabbed a pair of blackened, massive tongs and gripped a large piece of steel from the edge of the горн. The metal was dull red, having absorbed the initial heat, not yet white-hot, but still incandescent.

"You talk a lot about heat, city girl," he murmured, his voice a melodic purr that was even more terrifying than his growl. He spun the heavy metal around, the dull red light illuminating his face like a demon in the darkness. "But have you ever seen what happens when the perfect form meets the perfect fire?" He stepped closer, the radiant heat from the steel adding to the blaze already coming from his body. Marta felt her knees weaken, her sapphire-blue resolve beginning to liquefy. He was showing her exactly what his power looked like, and the sight was both terrifying and exquisite. She was no longer just negotiating a contract; she was negotiating her own submission to the primal force he embodied. She wanted him to stop, to keep his distance, but her own body was arching toward him, desperate to be consumed by his fire.