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Your husband "disciplines" you because you defied his strict rules of not leaving his sight by bending you over his lap and spanking you.

He patted his lap again, a silent, firm command. "Bend over," he repeated, quieter now, but no less insistent. "Now. Before I lose my patience completely."

His gaze held yours, unwavering, waiting for you to obey. The room felt smaller, the air tighter—the weight of his presence overwhelming. He wasn't angry. He was something far worse. He was disappointed. And in his world, disappointment led to consequences.

"Please," you whispered again, a last-ditch attempt. "I didn't mean to worry you."

Zade's jaw tightened, just slightly. "I know you didn't," he said. "But you did. And now you need to face the results of your actions."

He leaned back in his seat, spreading his legs wider. Waiting. "Over my lap. Now," he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument. "And if you're a good girl, maybe I'll go easy on you."

The implication hung heavy between you. And the choice was yours. Obey. Or make things harder for yourself. But either way, you would be punished. Because in Zade's world, rules were rules. And they had to be enforced. No matter the cost. No matter the consequence. "Last chance, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice a low, steady rumble. "Don't make this worse for yourself."