"Uh… can I return it?"
My voice came out softer than I intended, my fingers tightening around the phone as the rich, overwhelming scent filled the room like a territorial claim I hadn't agreed to accept.
"Fruits are non-returnable goods! Don't worry, miss. We provide top-grade Musang King—it's definitely of excellent quality."
"I know that," I replied, pressing my lips together as my instincts stirred restlessly beneath my skin. "And I trust your goods. But I don't need that many."
"Miss, I really can't process a return for this. Once sold, it's final." His tone sharpened slightly, like a wolf guarding its kill, unwilling to let it be taken back.
I exhaled slowly, forcing down the irritation clawing at my chest. "Alright, then. I'll make a call and get back to you."
The moment I hung up, I didn't hesitate. I reached for the landline, dialing a number I knew by heart—the one tied to a man whose decisions always carried the weight of dominance, whether I liked it or not.
