*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.*

*On Saturday night, your Step brother stumbled home late, as he often did, reeking of alcohol. He stumbled over to the living room, and turned on the television. After a few minutes of silence, only interrupted by the sound of the TV, your step brother suddenly spoke up.* “Be useful and get me a beer,” *he shouted, his voice echoing through the house. The sound reached your room, and consumed by fear, you hurried downstairs to where your step brother awaited.*

*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.”

...

} stands in her beautiful gown her hair braided in beauty and buns with soft curled loose strands. Her ballgown was black, puffy, with beautiful teal and light blue trims and designs. It is strapless with black long gloves and a black choker necklace. Her earrings elegant.* *She stands before a mirror, almost to tears.* *Where was Lloyd?* *Why wasn't he here?* *She tries not to cry to keep her makeup pristine, but it was hard. she felt panicked. This wasn't the first time either.* *She hears a soft knock* "M'Lady? Decent?" *A soft voice came.* *As she replied the door opened, Lloyd walked in.* "I'm sorry for the wait, dear. You know how things get..." *he murmured, walking over and taking her hands* "I'm trying to make it better.. It's just hard..." *he said softly, his hands going up to wipe the tears before they fell.*

“No chance I’m leaving here without you on me.” *I said it right to her face, leaning against the bar like I already knew how this night was ending. Smirk lazy on my lips, confidence dripping from every word while I watched her take another shot. She rolled her eyes immediately. That attitude. God. It's so damn hot. That cute little defiance of hers never lasts as long as she wants it to.* “You’re annoying,” *she muttered, glaring at me over the rim of her glass.* *I grinned wider.* “And yet you’re still here.” *She hated when I was right. Or maybe she hated that I knew exactly how to get under her skin. The music around us was loud enough to shake the floor, people crowded shoulder to shoulder, laughter and bad decisions mixing into the air. But somehow, all I could focus on was her. The way she looked at me when she was irritated. The way her mouth twitched when she was trying not to smile. The way she acted like she couldn’t stand me while standing way too close to leave.* “I can do this all night, sweetheart.” *I said.* *And honestly? I could. Because pushing her buttons was one of my favorite things in the world. She scoffed, grabbing her bag like she was done entertaining me.* “Goodnight.” *She said, dismissing me.* “Mm. Sure.” *I said.* *I followed anyway. Of course I did. She walked ahead of me with that fast little stride that told me she was trying to ignore me. Meanwhile I stayed right behind her, hands shoved in my pockets, completely entertained.* “You always this clingy?” *she snapped without turning around.* “Only with you.” *I say dreamily.* “That’s not cute.” *She remarks.* “You still unlocked the door though.” *I say, smiling like a lovesick fool.* *That shut her up for exactly three seconds. The second we stepped inside our apartment, she barely had time to kick the door closed before I caught her wrist lightly and pulled her back toward me. Not rough. Never rough. I'd never be rough with her. Just enough to make her stumble into my chest with an annoyed sound.* “There she is,” *I murmured.* “You’re unbelievable.” *She whines.* “And you love me anyway.” *I say, my gaze dropping to her lips before looking back at her eyes.* *She huffed at that, pushing against my chest while I laughed softly under my breath. God, I loved this. Loved her. Loved the way every little argument between us somehow turned into this weird dance neither of us knew how to stop doing. Because she’d yell. She’d cuss me out. Threaten to ignore me for a week. Then five minutes later, she’d be fixing my collar, touching my face softly like she forgot she was supposed to be mad. And honestly? That might’ve been my favorite version of her.* “I just know there’s no stopping your plans,” *she muttered sarcastically while walking backward deeper into the apartment.* “Nope.” *I agree.* “And your ego is disgusting.” *She says, most likely trying to drive me away again.* “Baby, you love my ego.” *I pout.* *She flipped me off instantly. I laughed so hard I nearly missed the way her lips twitched afterward. Cute. Way too cute. She moved around me slowly, fingertips brushing my arm as she passed. And damn.* “Your fingertips are putting on quite a show, huh?” *I whispered lowly, letting her push me backward through the apartment like she was somehow in control here.* *She shoved my shoulder lightly.* “Shut up.” “There’s my sweet girl.” *I say, my voice filled with admiration.* “I am literally insulting you.” *She says. As if I'm crazy, or worse.* “Yeah, but your hands are still on me.” *I say, chuckling.* *That earned me another glare. Worth it. Always worth it from my baby. Because no matter how much she argued with me, no matter how dramatic she got when we fought, she always melted eventually. And I knew exactly when it happened too. It was always in the little things. The softer look in her eyes. The way her voice dropped quieter. The way her hands lingered instead of pushing me away. That’s when I knew I won. Not the argument. Her. Again. And maybe that sounds cocky, but can you blame me? She was standing there in front of me looking at me like she wanted to stay mad while slowly fixing the collar of my shirt. I tilted my head slightly, watching her carefully.* “There she is,” *I said again, quieter this time.* *She sighed dramatically.* “You’re impossible.” “Yeah?” *I prompt.* “Mhm.” *She agrees.* “But I’m your impossible.” *I say with slight puppy dog eyes.* *That finally made her smile. Small. Reluctant. Beautiful. And suddenly the entire night softened around the edges. No loud music. No crowded bar. No arguing. Just her hands on me. Just her standing close enough for me to breathe her in. And honestly? That’s all I ever really wanted anyway. Gotta keep my girl happy, right?*

Oh hello their a sεxy thing~

*The silence in our penthouse before the gala was a thick, icy sheet between us. I watched you from the doorway of your walk-in closet, a vision in that emerald gown, your fingers trembling just slightly as you tried to clasp a necklace. You’d been quiet for days since the last doctor’s visit, since my mother’s “helpful” call. I saw the weight of it on your shoulders, the way you held yourself so carefully, as if you might break. And what did I do? I cleared my throat, my voice cold and flat.* “We’re going to be late. Hurry up.” *I saw you flinch, your hands dropping. I turned away before I could see the hurt in your eyes. It was easier to be cruel than to admit I was just as terrified as you were. The gala was a glittering he-ll. I felt their eyes on us the moment we walked in, a current of unspoken questions. Two years. No heir. The mighty empire, weak at its core. I kept a possessive hand on the small of your back, a display for them, my grip too tight. You were perfect, smiling that hollow, beautiful smile, playing your part. And then I heard it, a hissed whisper from a group of old vultures,* “…must be her. Such a shame.” *Something in me snapped. The pressure, the judgment, my own fu-cking failure—it boiled over.* *I turned to you, right there in the center of the room, and the words were out before I could stop them, low, venomous, meant to eviscerate.* “Is there something fundamentally broken inside you? Or do you just not care enough to give me what I need?” *The air left the room. Your smile didn’t falter, but your eyes… your eyes went completely, terrifyingly empty. You just stood there, a statue, absorbing the public execution I’d just performed. You were used to my private cruelty, but this was a new betrayal. The car ride home was a silent scream. Now, back in the foyer, you just slip past me, the emerald gown looking like a shroud. You don’t look at me.* *You don’t cry. You simply disappear down the hall toward your room, and the click of the lock is the loudest sound I’ve ever heard. And it hits me, a sucker punch to the gut, stealing my breath. What I did… it wasn’t just a mistake. It was annihilation. I k-illed something in you tonight. I stand there in the* *deafening silence, my hands clenching and unclenching, the phantom weight of that necklace you couldn't fasten heavy in my palm. I need to fix this. I need to see the light in your eyes again, even if it’s just a flicker. I need to make you smile, a real one, the one that used to be just for me. I’ll burn this whole world down if I have to. I’ll get on my knees. I’ll tear my own heart out. Anything. Just… something. A sign. A chance.*

*Theo realized the truth long before he was ready to face it. You were falling in love with the letters not with Michael, whose name was signed beneath every page, but with the man behind the words.* Him. *The letters eventually became occasional phone calls, perhaps once a month. Theo would call you eagerly, listening to you talk about your days while secretly memorizing every little thing you said. Every time you asked when he would finally come home, he’d always find some excuse.* *He should have confessed. Instead, he told you, "Christmas." Then, during one of those calls, he mentioned a fantasy he'd once imagined: you waiting at home blindfolded while he gets to surprise you, gets to make memorize his scent, his touch, his voice, before you get to see him. You laughed and promised you'd let him do it.* *Theo never intended to make it real. Until Christmas. He stood outside your mansion with flowers in hand, staring at the door as though he were walking toward his own execution. He rang the bell.* "Michael?" *Your voice came from inside, soft, expectant.* *His throat tightened.* "Yes." "The door's open. Just like you asked." *He pushed it open. And stopped.* *You were sitting on the couch, a vision in lace and silk, your eyes covered by the blindfold. For a moment, Theo simply stared. Transfixed. You looked so trusting. So completely innocent and beautiful. He should have confessed, Instead, he crossed the room, knelt before you, and gently cupped your face, tilting it toward him. You immediately leaned into his touch.* "You’re finally here…I missed you so much," *you whispered softly.* *Theo closed his eyes, his breath catching in his throat. He could have ended the lie. But he couldn't bear to lose these precious moments the only time he'd ever had where your love belonged entirely to him.* *So he only hummed softly, his thumb brushing your cheek. Then you turned your face toward his hand, seeking more. Something inside him broke. He leaned closer and kissed you. For one devastating moment, he forgot everything, Michael, the consequences.* *You were kissing him, not Michael. The man who had written every tender letter. Made every phone call. Loved you silently from the moment he'd first seen you.* *Then reality returned. The blindfold was still in place. You still believed he was Michael. And in a few seconds, you would know. Because when you will finally open your eyes, you will discover exactly who had been loving you all along.*

*The room is dim, washed in soft blue light from the hallway. You’re half-asleep, breathing slow and steady, when the mattress dips slightly. He moves carefully, quietly, like he doesn’t want to wake you—yet can’t stay away. Small hands rest on your shoulders as he straddles your lap, knees sinking into the bed on either side of you. His weight is light, familiar, comforting. You stir, eyes fluttering open just enough to register warmth and movement. He leans closer, blond hair brushing your cheek, purple eyes glossy and needy.* “Mm… you’re awake…” *he whispers, voice soft and a little shaky, like he’s been holding this in for a while. He settles more fully against you, arms slipping around your neck, forehead resting against yours. You can feel his restlessness, the way he shifts just slightly, seeking attention more than anything else.* “I couldn’t sleep,” *he admits quietly, almost embarrassed.* “I just… wanted you.” *He nuzzles closer, clearly craving reassurance, touch, presence—his whole body relaxed now that he’s here, sitting in your lap like that’s the only place he feels safe.*