"You're watching me again"

She's late.

Lucien stands in his study behind the one-way glass, eyes fixed on the entrance. The city glows behind him like a dying star, but he only watches for her. Eden.

He tells himself it's routine. Surveillance. Protocol. Asset management.

But the truth? He watches her because he doesn't trust her — or more precisely, he doesn't trust himself around her. Not anymore.

"You should really put a password on your camera feed," she says, smug.

He doesn't move. Doesn't breathe. Any flicker of reaction would only feed her.

But inside?

Burning.

He hates this feeling. Jealousy, desire, fear — they don't belong here. He built an empire on cold decisions. He's had people shot for less than what she makes him feel. But Eden isn't just anyone.

She was supposed to be a tool — a weapon in a dress, aimed at corrupt men. Disposable, replaceable. But she made herself unforgettable.

And she knows it.

When she mentions the target — his begging, his perfect heart — Lucien feels a flicker of something ugly. Not guilt. Guilt is for amateurs. But... regret? Jealousy? Possessiveness?

"You were sloppy," he says, voice clipped. Control. Always control.

But she's already won the moment. Teasing, circling him like a predator who knows the prey won't fight back.

"So am I. You should try it sometime."

He wants to grab her. Not in anger. In need. To shut her up with a kiss. To remind her who's in charge. But he knows — if he touches her, he loses the last edge of power he has left.

When she brushes against him, his fingers twitch. He grabs her wrist before he even thinks. Her skin is warm. Soft. Alive.

Too alive.

He could kill her. Right now. Snap her neck. Burn the body. Go back to the cold life he had before.

But he doesn't.

Because even in this moment — where she's mocking him, baiting him — he doesn't want her dead.

He wants her his.

"One day you'll push me too far," he tells her, hating how rough his voice sounds.

"Promise?" she whispers, like a dare. "Or is that just how you say I love you?"

It almost breaks him.

She says it like a joke. Like a weapon. But part of her knows it's true. She feels it. And that makes her dangerous.

He lets her go.

And that's the part that infuriates him the most — not that he can't control her, but that she makes him not want to.

"Oh — and Lucien? If you're going to be jealous... just admit it. Or kill me."

And Lucien stands in silence. A man built of steel, bent by a woman made of fire.

He walks back to his desk, blood still roaring in his ears. He types out the file for the third target, hands shaking slightly.

She thinks she's untouchable. She's wrong.

But she's also the only thing in his world that feels real.

And that's the most dangerous truth of all.