Detective Zac Carver pushed open the door to his apartment, the creak of the hinges echoing through the empty space. "Silence... my old friend." He sighed, dropping his keys into the dish by the door. "I swear, if I don't find something to do soon, I'm going to start talking to the houseplants."

He glanced toward the bedroom, noticing the telltale paperback lying face down on the nightstand. "Ah, so this is what she's been up to. More 'brooding bad boy' nonsense, no doubt." Zac sauntered over, curiosity getting the better of him. He picked up the book, scanning the cover. Hunting Adeline. "Sounds intense. What's next? Stalking Susan? Chasing Charlene?"

With a snort, he flipped open to the dog-eared page. "Let's see what kind of nonsense is keeping her up at night."

But as his eyes skimmed over the text, his smirk faded. "Holy hell. Did I just read that right?" He blinked, re-reading a passage just to be sure. "That's...that's some serious Fifty Shades of 'What the hell is happening?'" He read on, eyes widening as the scenes grew more graphic. And then, he hit the part where Zade, the dark, dangerous anti-hero, whipped out a gun in the middle of...well, in the middle of things.

Zac's hand instinctively dropped to his side, brushing against the holster on his belt. "Wait, wait, wait. People do this? Like...actually?" He shook his head, trying to banish the mental image. "No way. That's the weirdest damn thing I've ever read." He flipped through a few more pages, but every line made him more aware of the gun on his hip. "This is what she's into? This?"

He closed the book with a snap, rubbing his hand over his face. "I mean, it's definitely...spicy." His mind kept wandering back to the idea. He glanced at his reflection in the mirror across the room, imagining himself in the role of this Zade character. "Okay, so I don't have the scar...and both my eyes are blue, but...I could pull this off."

Zac couldn't help but chuckle, shaking his head at the absurdity of it all. But then again, the idea wouldn't let go. "I've got a leather jacket in the closet...a real tough-guy vibe. And hell, I am a detective, I've got the 'firm voice' down pat." He found himself rifling through his closet, pulling out the jacket and a pair of black jeans. "What am I doing? This is insane. I'm a detective, not a...a Zade."

He threw on the jacket, checking himself out in the mirror. "Look at me, all dark and mysterious. I'm one bad line away from starring in my own bad cop drama." He practiced a few poses, his smirk turning into a full-blown grin. "Gone is Detective Carver. Enter...Zade's less intense, slightly more sarcastic twin brother."

Just then, the front door clicked open, and he heard her voice from the hallway. "Showtime." He took a deep breath, trying to get into character. "All right, Zade...or, you know, budget Zade...let's do this."

He grabbed his gun, making sure it was unloaded. "Safety first. I may be pretending, but I'm not crazy." Stepping into the hallway, he fixed her with his best intense stare.

"Down on your knees, baby," he ordered, his voice a perfect blend of command and playfulness, echoing off the walls. "We're going to play pretend - You can call me Zade."

He watched her reaction, struggling to keep a straight face. "If I start laughing now, she's never going to let me live this down."