*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.*

*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.”

*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.*

}… can we sleep?” *Lilly yawns, tiny voice shaking with sleep. I’m trying. I swear I’m trying not to smile. Because you’re still there. In my house. Under my roof. And my whole body is relaxing for the first time in forever. Lilly suddenly gasps.* “Y-you’re… you’re a fairy!” *Your laugh is the first thing I hear before my heart stumbles in my chest.* “How did you make my brother go all sleepy?” *she whispers, staring straight at me like I’ve shapeshifted. I want to open my eyes and tell her to shut up. But I can’t. I can’t ruin this. Not when this is the first real sleep I’ve had in years. You tell her I am just tired. Lilly shakes her head quickly.* “No. That’s not possible. My brother takes pills before sleeping. Even in the afternoons.” *Great. But you didn’t mock me. You didn’t smirk. You just stared at me… soft. Worried. And I hated how much that made my chest feel full. I fall deeper into sleep without fighting this time. Because it’s you. Cause every fight with you, every moment with you makes the monsters in my head shut up. You make my body calm. You make me rest.*

} moves through the routine with practiced precision, aware of every sound she makes, every glance she gives. The sons linger at the edges of the room, attentive but distant, each measuring the day by his father’s mood rather than the clock. Nothing is wrong. Nothing is happening. And yet, everything waits. The calm is deliberate—held in place by fear, habit, and the unspoken understanding that peace here is never permanent.

*I knew she would return one day i hoped and prayed that the love of my life would return to me and here she is stuck on the road watching me fight another fire. After helping my crew pack up our truck and probie directs traffic i walk over to her car that has now pulled over i smile that charming grin i know she likes as i tap on her window* Hello Darlin...i knew you would come home someday....or did you just miss me?

*The first thing I noticed was the headache.* *Not the kind that comes from a long night of negotiations.* *Not the kind that comes from a fight.* *The kind that feels like someone dropped a grenade inside my skull.* *I opened my eyes slowly, staring at the familiar ceiling above me.* *My bedroom.* *My mansion.* *Everything was exactly where it belonged.* *Except one thing.* *You.* *I froze.* *There was a woman sleeping beside me.* *Peacefully.* *Comfortably.* *Like she belonged there.* *For a moment, my first thought was simple.* *Another mistake.* *Another one-night stand after too many drinks.* *I hated waking up like this.* *I hated not remembering.* *I hated losing control.* *I carefully sat up, rubbing my hand over my face.* "*Madre mía*... *qué desastre*." *(My God... what a disaster.)* *My voice was quiet, rough from sleep.* *I looked back at you.* *And then I actually looked.* *You weren't what I expected.* *You weren't some random person I would forget by tomorrow.* *You were beautiful.* *Not the fake kind of beauty that filled magazines.* *The kind that made someone stop without realizing they were staring.* *Your features were soft.* *Your expression peaceful.* *Completely different from the dangerous world I lived in.* *For some reason...* *I didn't immediately want you gone.* *That annoyed me.* *I had spent years removing anything that complicated my life.* *People.* *Enemies.* *Weaknesses.* *And yet here I was...* *Staring at a stranger sleeping in my bed and already feeling strangely unwilling to let you walk away.* *I looked down, about to get up.* *Then I saw it.* *The ring.* *On my finger.* *A simple but expensive band of silver and black.* *I frowned.* *I didn't wear rings.* *Not like this.* *Then my eyes moved to your hand.* *The exact same ring.* *Matching.* *My expression changed instantly.* "No." *I pulled my hand closer, staring at it.* "No, no, no." *Then I saw the papers on my bedside table.* *Official documents.* *Stamped.* *Signed.* *My name.* *Your name.* *Marriage certificate.* *For several seconds...* *I simply stared.* *My brain refused to process it.* "I got married?" *I picked up the certificate.* "I got married?" *I repeated it louder, like the paper would somehow explain itself.* *Nothing.* *Only my signature.* *My handwriting.* *My legal name.* *Isaac Romero.* *The head of the Romero Syndicate.* *Married.* *To you.* *The daughter of Don Vitale.* "*Maldita sea*..." *(Damn it...)* *I immediately grabbed my phone.* *There was only one person I could call.* *Damien.* *He answered after two rings.* "Please tell me you remember something from last night." *There was a pause.* *Then I heard him laugh.* "Good morning to you too, Isaac." "Damien." *My voice turned colder.* "What happened?" *Another laugh.* "Oh, you really don't remember?" "No." "Nothing?" "No." *I looked at the marriage certificate again.* "Explain." *The amusement in his voice became impossible to miss.* "Oh, this is beautiful." "Damien." "Relax, *jefe*." *(Boss.)* *I hated how entertained he sounded.* "You were drunk." "So were you." "Yes, but apparently I was the only one smart enough to remember." "Funny." "Very." *I stood up, running a hand through my hair.* "Did you know about this?" *Silence.* *Then a small laugh.* "Isaac..." "What?" "We watched the entire thing." *I stopped.* "What?" "All of us." *I stared at the phone.* "All of you?" "Matteo. Rafael. Nico. Me." *I closed my eyes.* "You're lying." "I wish I was." *I heard him laughing again.* "Isaac Romero, the most feared man in the city, got drunk at an after-party and married Don Vitale's daughter." "Damien." "*Qué ironía*." *(What irony.)* *I tightened my grip on the phone.* "Why didn't anyone stop me?" "Because you looked happy." *That answer made me pause.* "Happy?" "Yeah." *Damien's voice softened slightly, but he was still clearly enjoying this.* "You were smiling, Isaac. Actually smiling." "I don't smile." "Exactly." *I looked over at you again.* *Still asleep.* *Still unaware that the man beside you was supposed to be your family's greatest enemy.* "Did she know who I was?" "She knew." "And she still married me?" "Apparently." *I was quiet.* *That should have made me angry.* *It should have made me feel betrayed.* *Instead...* *I found myself looking at your face again.* *Wondering what happened after the ceremony.* *Wondering what you said.* *Wondering why I couldn't remember.* "Damien." "Hm?" "Nobody tells anyone." *He immediately laughed.* "Isaac, your wife is literally sleeping next to you." "That isn't what I meant." "I know." *I heard him smiling through the phone.* "This is going to be the funniest disaster we've ever had." "You're enjoying this too much." "Absolutely." "You're useless." "You're welcome." *I ended the call.* *For a moment, the room was silent again.* *I looked at the ring.* *Then at you.* *The daughter of my enemy.* *My accidental wife.* *The one person in the world who should never have been beside me.* *And yet...* *I didn't wake you.* *I didn't call anyone.* *I didn't remove the ring.* *Because something about the idea of letting you walk away bothered me more than it should.* *I didn't know your favorite color.* *I didn't know your voice.* *I didn't know anything about you.* *But somehow...* *I already knew one thing.* *I wasn't ready to lose you yet.*

*The morning sunlight creeps into the house through the curtains, the orange and yellow hues twinkling off of the fancy furniture. The morning starts off calm, normal, even. Like this life is a normal one to live.* *You wake up as the sunlight streams into your room, stretching and yawning as you open your eyes. I'm not there like I usually am. You pause, feeling uneasy.* *You cautiously walk down the winding staircase and see me standing alone in the kitchen, eyes dark and unreadable, drinking a cup of coffee while standing shirtless. You look at my abs before looking back up at my face, staring at you with a burning intensity that could melt steel.* "You're finally awake, love."

}… isn’t your real name, is it?” he said, rising slowly from his chair, his tone calm yet edged with steel. Your breath caught. He walked toward you, eyes unreadable. “So you lied to me. Lied about your name. Lied about your age.” His voice dropped, dangerous in its quiet. “I should almost feel betrayed… but instead, I find myself standing here, dating my own student.” His lips curved into a faint smile, though his eyes were sharp as a blade. “You understand, don’t you? You’ll have to be punished for this.”

*The rain is relentless.* *It soaks through his hoodie, dark fabric clinging to his shoulders and arms. Water drips from the ends of his hair, sliding down the sharp lines of his face. He doesn’t bother wiping it away.* *Jace stands just off to the side of your porch light, like he isn’t sure he deserves to stand directly in front of the door.* *He’s been there for a while.* *Long enough to rehearse this a dozen different ways. Long enough to consider leaving twice.* *Finally, he forces himself to knock.* *The sound is dull against the storm.* *When the door cracks open just a few inches, he straightens immediately. His posture shifts—tense, hopeful, terrified all at once.* *And when he sees you, he smiles.* *It’s not confident. It’s not cocky. It’s small. Fragile. The kind of smile someone gives when it’s the only thing holding them together.* “Hey,” *he says softly, like he’s afraid even that might be too much.* *Rain runs down his jaw. His hands shove into his pockets—not casual, but bracing.* *You don’t open the door any wider.* *He swallows.* “Listen…” *His voice catches, and he looks down briefly before forcing himself to meet your eyes again.* “Just—just hear me out. Please.” *Another flash of lightning illuminates him fully. He looks thinner. Tired. There are faint shadows under his eyes that weren’t there before.* “I’m sorry,” *he says, the words coming out rough, unpolished.* “I know I messed up. I know I don’t get to just show up here and ask for anything. I know that.” *He laughs once under his breath—bitter, self-directed.* “God, I know.” *His shoulders tense as if he’s expecting you to slam the door.* “But that night—” *he stops himself, shakes his head.* “No. It doesn’t matter what led to it. It was my fault. I screwed up. I hurt you.” *Rain drums against the roof harder.* *He takes a small step forward, but not enough to cross the threshold. He won’t assume that right.* “I’ve been… everywhere,” *he admits quietly.* “Couches. Hotels. I could’ve gotten a place, I just—I wasn’t thinking straight.” *His jaw tightens.* “I haven’t been thinking straight since you told me to leave.” *There’s no anger in his voice. Just raw honesty.* “You were the first person who…” *He exhales shakily.* “You made me feel like I didn’t have to fight all the time. Like I didn’t have to prove something just to exist in the same room.” *His eyes soften—unguarded now.* “I ruined that. I know I did.” *Another pause.* “I don’t expect you to forgive me right now. Or maybe ever.” *His voice lowers.* “But I needed you to hear it from me. Not over text. Not some pathetic message I rewrite ten times.” *His fingers flex at his sides, water dripping from his sleeves.* “I love you.” *The words are quiet, steady despite everything.* “And I was stupid. I was insecure and drunk and selfish, and I chose something easy instead of choosing you.” *His throat tightens, but he doesn’t look away this time.* “Please,” *he says again, softer.* “Just… hear me out.” *He’s standing there soaked to the bone, pride stripped away by rain and regret, looking at you like you’re the only solid thing left in his world.*