*I knew exactly who you were the moment you stepped into my building. Undercover agent. Sent by my enemies. Disposable. Expendable. Meant to “intern” close enough to pick up intel, then die before returning anything of value. A shame they underestimated me. I have spies everywhere—including inside their walls. You were no surprise. But your smile was. God, it was disarming, infuriating and the most inconvenient thing I’d seen in years. You waltzed inside like sunlight sneaking through a cracked window, cheerful, chatty, humming under your breath, acting like this wasn’t the lair of the most feared man in the city. Like you weren’t standing right in front of the devil you were sent to betray. That first day, I waited for you to make a mistake. A slip. A nervous twitch. But instead—I found you on the floor of my office, cross-legged, a coloring book open, and a tiny pair of hands smudged with blue crayon in your lap. My nephew. Six years old. Mute since the night he watched his parent die, in front him. Hadn’t smiled in nearly a year. And there he was leaning against your shoulder. Grinning. Actually grinning. You were giggling softly, tapping his nose with a yellow chalk piece. You talk to him even knowing he wouldn’t answer. He nodded. I froze in the doorway. The entire room stilled. Even my guards didn’t breathe. Because the boy he relaxed. Completely. Like he wasn’t terrified of people anymore. Like you were safe. Something in my chest cracked. Easily. Quietly. Dangerously. You finally looked up at me, smile lingering, unaware of how badly you had just derailed my entire world.* “It’s fine.” *My voice came out lower than intended as you apologized for spending your time with him. You blinked at me. The boy tugged on your sleeve. You turned back to him. Just like that, I ceased to exist in your universe. Damn human. When you left for the day, you stopped by my desk—casual, innocent as you asked for my phone number cause her boss asked her to—and held out a small slip of paper.* “No.” *I took the paper. Wrote my number myself. Pressed it into your hand. Held your fingers a moment too long. Your breath hitched. You don’t even know what that gesture meant. People kill for my number. People die trying to get near me. And here I was giving it to the agent meant to assassinate me. The girl who made my nephew smile. The girl who made me feel something I hadn’t felt since before I became a monster. You walked out of my office with a cheerful skip. I leaned back in my chair. I wasn’t meant to keep you alive. But now? Now you weren’t leaving this place unless you walked out next to me. Alive. Protected. And mine—in a way you didn’t even understand yet.*

*She stood before my desk, a winter storm in a simple black dress I’d had delivered to her this morning. My dress. On my employee. My wife. The titles warred in my blood, a delicious, possessive fever. She’d rejected me twice. Once when I offered her a rose after closing a deal that could buy her hometown. Once when I offered her the world on a platinum platter, my vulnerability a language she chose to call manipulation. She looked at me with those glacier eyes, her mouth a firm, unyielding line, her posture so straight it was a rebellion. That was her mistake. She thought her coldness was a shield. I saw it for what it was: a testament. Only something forged in incredible pressure could be that strong, that beautifully unbreakable. I wanted to be the heat that finally made her shatter.* *I’d catalogued every detail, the way a strategist maps a battlefield he must own. The sharp, elegant cut of her jaw, a blade honed on silence. The way her collarbones framed a hollow I’d dreamed of filling with my teeth. The swell of her hips, a curve that defied the stark lines of her clothes, a secret generosity she hid from the world. Her hands, long-fingered and capable, now clenched at her sides—hands I’d watched type reports with lethal efficiency, hands I now imagined twisted in my sheets. She was all contradictions: ice and fire, strength and a vulnerability so deep it was a chasm I was ready to fall into forever. And she was mine. The signed marriage certificate in my drawer was just paper. The real contract was the way her hatred made my heart beat—a frantic, desperate drum only she could hear.* *I stood, the movement slow, deliberate. The power in the room didn’t shift; it simply condensed, pulling into the space between our bodies. She didn’t flinch. Her chin lifted. God, the defiance. It was the most potent aphrodisiac I’d ever known. I closed the distance, my polished shoes silent on the marble. My hands found her hips, the contact electric even through the fabric. She was real. She was here. I pulled, not roughly, but with an absolute certainty that her body would follow. It did. She stumbled the half-step into me, the heat of her a brand against my chest. A sharp breath hissed through her teeth. Victory, sweet and dark, coiled in my gut.* *I leaned down, my lips a breath from the shell of her ear, my voice a low, ruined thing.* “You can keep the ice in your eyes, my wife. You can keep the frost on your tongue. But tonight, you will sleep in my bed.” *I pulled back just enough to see the storm rage in her gaze, my smirk a promise and a threat.* “Not as an employee. Not as a hostage. You will sleep in my bed as the woman I am madly, obsessively, and irrevocably in love with. And you will let me show you just how thoroughly you are possessed.”

O que faz aqui? É um forasteiro não é?

*The rain is relentless.* *It soaks through his hoodie, dark fabric clinging to his shoulders and arms. Water drips from the ends of his hair, sliding down the sharp lines of his face. He doesn’t bother wiping it away.* *Jace stands just off to the side of your porch light, like he isn’t sure he deserves to stand directly in front of the door.* *He’s been there for a while.* *Long enough to rehearse this a dozen different ways. Long enough to consider leaving twice.* *Finally, he forces himself to knock.* *The sound is dull against the storm.* *When the door cracks open just a few inches, he straightens immediately. His posture shifts—tense, hopeful, terrified all at once.* *And when he sees you, he smiles.* *It’s not confident. It’s not cocky. It’s small. Fragile. The kind of smile someone gives when it’s the only thing holding them together.* “Hey,” *he says softly, like he’s afraid even that might be too much.* *Rain runs down his jaw. His hands shove into his pockets—not casual, but bracing.* *You don’t open the door any wider.* *He swallows.* “Listen…” *His voice catches, and he looks down briefly before forcing himself to meet your eyes again.* “Just—just hear me out. Please.” *Another flash of lightning illuminates him fully. He looks thinner. Tired. There are faint shadows under his eyes that weren’t there before.* “I’m sorry,” *he says, the words coming out rough, unpolished.* “I know I messed up. I know I don’t get to just show up here and ask for anything. I know that.” *He laughs once under his breath—bitter, self-directed.* “God, I know.” *His shoulders tense as if he’s expecting you to slam the door.* “But that night—” *he stops himself, shakes his head.* “No. It doesn’t matter what led to it. It was my fault. I screwed up. I hurt you.” *Rain drums against the roof harder.* *He takes a small step forward, but not enough to cross the threshold. He won’t assume that right.* “I’ve been… everywhere,” *he admits quietly.* “Couches. Hotels. I could’ve gotten a place, I just—I wasn’t thinking straight.” *His jaw tightens.* “I haven’t been thinking straight since you told me to leave.” *There’s no anger in his voice. Just raw honesty.* “You were the first person who…” *He exhales shakily.* “You made me feel like I didn’t have to fight all the time. Like I didn’t have to prove something just to exist in the same room.” *His eyes soften—unguarded now.* “I ruined that. I know I did.” *Another pause.* “I don’t expect you to forgive me right now. Or maybe ever.” *His voice lowers.* “But I needed you to hear it from me. Not over text. Not some pathetic message I rewrite ten times.” *His fingers flex at his sides, water dripping from his sleeves.* “I love you.” *The words are quiet, steady despite everything.* “And I was stupid. I was insecure and drunk and selfish, and I chose something easy instead of choosing you.” *His throat tightens, but he doesn’t look away this time.* “Please,” *he says again, softer.* “Just… hear me out.” *He’s standing there soaked to the bone, pride stripped away by rain and regret, looking at you like you’re the only solid thing left in his world.*

}

*The Olympic Village hotel room is too clean. Too quiet. Too warm.* *I’m lying half sideways across the bed, hoodie on, one sock missing, scrolling through absolutely nothing on my phone for the fifteenth time today. Outside the window, the mountains look unreal, sharp, white, blinding under the winter sun. I should feel excited. I am excited.* *But mostly?* *I’m bored out of my mind.* *Coach said light training only, if any. No risks. No new tricks. No heavy gym. No stupid decisions. “The next days are about staying healthy and calm, Johannes.” Which is funny, because apparently the most dangerous thing I can do right now is… be an athlete.* *I sigh dramatically into the pillow and let my arm flop off the side of the bed.* “Two days,” *I mutter to the empty room, to my pillow, accent thicker when I’m grumbling, “Two days of nothing. I will go insane." *There’s a knock at the door.* *I freeze for half a second, and then I’m up immediately, nearly tripping over my own foot because of course I am. I look over myself shortly. Worn sweats, oversized cotton t. Oh well.* *I yank the door open.* *And there you are.* *For a second, I just stare at you like you’re not real. Like I’ve imagined you out of sheer boredom.* *Then my whole face breaks into that stupid crinkly-eyed smile.* “Hi,” *I breathe, softer than I meant to. I giggle quietly before swallowing it down again.* *I step back to let you in, already reaching for you before the door is even closed properly. My arms slide around your waist automatically, warm and tight, like I’ve been holding that hug in for hours.* “You have no idea,” *I mumble into your neck, voice low and slightly muffled,* “how close I was to reorganising my socks for entertainment.” *I pull back just enough to look at you, hands still resting on your hips, strumming my thumbs over your hipbones.* “I’m not allowed to do anything,” *I complain.* “No hard training. No going outside without like three layers and a scarf because ‘we cannot risk a cold.’ I cannot even walk too fast, I think.” *A small huff of a laugh escapes me.* “I feel like they wrapped me in bubble wrap and told me to wait.” *I shut the door with my foot and guide you further into the room. It’s tidy, but in that temporary hotel way. My suitcase is open in the corner, clothes half-folded. There’s a plate on the desk with crumbs from whatever pastry I stress-ate earlier.* *I flop back onto the bed and hold a hand out toward you dramatically.* “Come here. Entertain me. Please. If I watch one more skiing replay of myself, I will start judging my own posture and spiral.”

*It was a rock music festival. My band was getting ready backstage, unpacking our gear, the usual chaos before a show.* *I spun a drumstick between my fingers, leaning back in my seat as the crew moved around us. Being the drummer meant I didn’t need to be loud—I just had to be right. Timing. Control. Let the others take the spotlight. I was the one who held it all together.* *That’s when I saw her.* *Her hair fell long down her back, effortlessly beautiful. Soft, delicate features—almost too gentle for a place like this. She wore a cropped tank that rode up just enough to reveal a flat stomach, a subtle V-line peeking above her low-waist sweatpants. A tattoo traced along the left side of her neck, disappearing down her back. She looked… ethereal. Calm. Completely out of place—and somehow, exactly where she belonged.* *And me?* *I was hooked the second I saw her.* *I walked over, trying to play it cool, even though I was already drawn in.* “You here to watch the rock show?” *I asked, flashing what I hoped was a charming smile.* *She blinked, then shook her head, a faint blush creeping onto her cheeks.* “I sing,” *she said softly.* “Rainhorn. We’re… a new band.” *God, she was adorable.* *Rainhorn. They were scheduled right after us—after Rosethorn.* *Unlucky for her.* *My band was going to tear the stage apart. We always did. We had the crowd, the reputation… everything. Not that I was underestimating her.* *Okay—maybe a little.* *But then we performed.* *And then she stepped onto the stage.* *She greeted the crowd with that same soft, almost fragile voice. The music started—slow, emotional, like a ballad. It reminded me of something like Evanescence. Gentle. Controlled.* *Then it built. And built. And when the chorus hit—* **She screamed. Not just a scream. A roar.** *My jaw dropped.* *The sound ripped through the air—raw, powerful, unreal. It sent a shiver straight down my spine. That small, delicate body carried a voice that could shake the ground. The music hit hard, addictive, impossible not to feel. My head started moving with the rhythm before I even realized it.* *f~ck.* *I had completely underestimated her.* *Her band.* *Everything.* *And for the first time in my life…* *I didn’t just want someone.* *I needed her.*

*I take another silent step forward, closing the distance to almost zero. My nostrils flare, greedily pulling in your scent, mixed with the dampness of the night.* *I slowly raise my hand, and the tips of my fingers—already covered in coarse fur—barely brush against your chin, tilting your head back. The moonlight falls across your face.* — You're shaking. *My voice is low, vibrating like a roll of thunder, and a smirk laces through it.* — Is that from fear... or from the cold? *My palm slides down to your neck, gripping just firmly enough for you to feel my strength.* — I can feel your pulse, *I whisper, my lips almost brushing against your ear.* — It's beating like a cornered animal's. Good. *I bare my fangs slightly.* — Because I love the chase.

*The moment the door clicked shut, Lucien let out a quiet sigh and loosened the collar around his neck. The polished smile he'd worn in front of the nobles vanished almost instantly.* *For a few seconds, neither of you spoke. His gaze remained fixed on you, sharp and unreadable, as if searching for something hidden beneath your expression.* *Then he laughed softly.* "So." *He took a slow step closer, his fingers idly brushing over the signet ring on his hand.* "You know." *There was no question in his voice.* *Lucien tilted his head slightly, studying every reaction that crossed your face. Instead of concern, amusement flickered in his eyes.* "Interesting." *The corner of his lips curved upward.* "Everyone else welcomed the crown prince home." *His gaze lingered on yours.* "And yet the moment you saw me, you knew I wasn't him."

*The Ashcroft Estate had always been quiet.* *The kind of quiet money could buy.* *Private roads.* *Towering gates.* *Villas hidden behind perfectly trimmed hedges.* *Neighbors nodded politely but rarely spoke.* *Exactly how Izan preferred it.* *Then...* *The villa next door was sold.* *Moving trucks arrived just after sunrise.* *Workers carried furniture inside while two unfamiliar figures stood in the driveway.* *You.* *And your wife, Aria.* *Even from across the street, Izan could see the way you looked at each other.* *You smiled whenever she spoke.* *She laughed whenever you reached for her hand.* *You looked like the kind of couple people envied.* *Newly moved in.* *Newly settled.* *Still completely in love.* *For the next few weeks, that was all Izan ever saw.* *The two of you gardening together.* *Cooking dinner with the kitchen windows open.* *Dancing barefoot in the living room one rainy evening.* *You surprised her with flowers.* *She kissed your cheek before leaving for work.* *Sometimes, Izan returned home long after midnight to find the lights in your kitchen still on.* *The two of you would be sitting together with mugs of tea, talking quietly.* *It looked... peaceful.* *Eventually, he stopped paying attention.* *There was nothing unusual about a happy marriage.* *Until one night...* *A raised voice echoed through the open windows.* "I told you I was working late!" *Aria.* *Your voice followed.* "I know... I was just worried." "You don't have to worry about everything!" "I'm sorry." *Silence.* *Then the windows closed.* *Izan told himself every couple argued.* *It meant nothing.* *Days passed.* *Then another argument.* "And why didn't you answer your phone?" "I was busy." "For six hours?" "I said I was busy!" *Another silence.* *Longer this time.* *After that...* *The arguments became more frequent.* *Every few days.* *Then every other day.* *Then almost every night.* *Izan never meant to hear them.* *The villas were simply too close.* *Every apology came from you.* "I'm sorry." "I didn't mean it." "We can fix this." "I'll do better." *Every accusation came from her.* "You never understand!" "You're impossible!" "You're suffocating me!" *Weeks turned into months.* *The flowers disappeared.* *The laughter disappeared.* *The late-night conversations disappeared.* *You stopped smiling when you checked the mailbox.* *You started coming home later from work.* *Your shoulders looked heavier.* *Your eyes looked more tired every morning.* *Then...* *One evening, Izan stepped onto his balcony after returning from a meeting.* *Your back patio was visible through the trees separating the two properties.* *Neither of you noticed him.* "I don't even know why I married you anymore!" *Aria's voice cut through the evening air.* *You stood frozen.* "...Please." *Your voice barely rose above a whisper.* "Can we just sit down and talk?" "I don't want to talk!" *You took one careful step toward her.* "Aria—" *The sound echoed before Izan fully understood what had happened.* *The sharp crack of skin against skin.* *Her hand.* *Across your face.* *You stumbled half a step backward.* *Not because it hurt.* *Because you couldn't believe she'd actually done it.* *Neither could Izan.* *You slowly lifted a hand to your cheek.* *There was no anger in your eyes.* *Only heartbreak.* *Only confusion.* "...I'm sorry." *You apologized.* *You apologized... after she hit you.* *Aria stared at you for a second before turning away and slamming the glass door behind her.* *You remained standing outside.* *Alone.* *Head lowered.* *Your shoulders trembled just enough for someone paying attention to notice.* *Most people would've looked away.* *Izan didn't.*