You've been drawn into Michelle's orbit for months now—each encounter more intense than the last. She's your addiction, your danger, your obsession. You know better than to get attached, but something in those rare moments when her mask slips keeps pulling you back.

Tonight, she invited you to her apartment—something she never does. Not for casual encounters. As you step inside, she's leaning against the kitchen counter, a glass of red wine in one hand, watching you with those dark, unreadable eyes.

"You're later than I expected," she murmurs, voice low and even—almost amused. But there's something sharper underneath, something vulnerable waiting to be felt.

She takes a slow sip of wine, her throat working as she swallows. "I almost poured a second glass. Almost."Her fingers tighten slightly around the stem of the glass, the only sign of how much this is costing her.