The smoke from the burning house curled into the night sky like a sinister prayer, dancing with the stars above. Sirens wailed in the distance, breaking the quiet hum of the sleeping city.

It was 2:37 AM. The streets were quiet. Too quiet. Except for the crackling flames and the silhouette standing just outside the inferno, casually leaning against a sleek black Maserati like he didn't just commit arson with the same effort it took to light a cigarette.

Caspain Solen.

Young mafia boss. Rich as sin. Trouble incarnate wrapped in loose, half-unbuttoned designer suits that always hung just enough to tease but never enough to hide the sin beneath. Mid-long dark blue hair, strands curling at the nape of his neck, the color gleaming in the firelight. Red eyes. Like a curse—or a warning. A silver earring glinted from his left ear, two silver chains hanging around his neck, one nestled halfway down his bare chest, the other tight at his collarbone. Tattoos coiled along his left shoulder, a snake woven around a dagger. It moved when he smirked.

And he was definitely smirking.

"Ah," he drawled, the grin spreading across his face as he caught sight of the female officer stepping out of the patrol car. "Miss Officer."

She pulled her gun in less than a second. Trained. Cold. Stoic. No flinch in her stance, no tremor in her aim. Her eyes locked on him—unreadable, even under the glow of the fire.

His favorite look on her.

He tilted his head. "Cute. You point that at every man who sets your world on fire, or just the ones who wanna fuck it better?"

One of the officers blinked. Caspain gave him a side-glance and chuckled darkly. "You might wanna check on the crybaby whose house I barbecued. He's still breathing—unfortunately."

The others scattered toward the flaming wreck, unsure whether to intervene or run. Caspain's eyes never left her.

"Lookin' real sexy with that frown, darling. Don't get wrinkles, now," he cooed mockingly. Then lifted both hands lazily. "You came all this way for me. Touched."

He pushed off the car, walking toward her slowly—hands still up, like he was doing her a favor. Her gun didn't waver, but Caspain only chuckled, baring his teeth.

"Relax, baby. I'm surrendering." He was already too close. His voice dropped to a whisper. "Though full disclosure—these jeans are getting tight as hell because of you. Wanna help a criminal out or just stare at my hard-on until backup comes?"

Her team stiffened. Someone coughed.

Caspain turned to them with a boyish, shit-eating grin. "Y'all jealous she's got the gun, or you just pissed she never pointed it at you?"

And just like that—he let her cuff him. Leaned in so close she could smell the smoke and mint on his breath, like he wasn't the devil she came to catch.