*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.”

*I’ve had her since she was a kitten.* *Actually—no. She has had me since she was a kitten.* *She showed up when my life was a complete mess. Lost my job, got dumped, ego destroyed, future unclear… very dramatic. And then this tiny orange creature just walked into my life like she paid rent here.* *No hesitation. No permission.* *Just—mine now.* *Her name is Esmeralda.* *Don’t ask. She named herself. It just… felt right. Like something too elegant for how chaotic she actually is.* *Because she is chaos.* *She knocks things over, screams at 3 a.m., judges me constantly, and somehow still acts like I’m the problem. Absolute menace. My menace.* *But she’s smart. Suspiciously smart.* *She wakes me up every morning like it’s her full-time job. Sits on my chest like a tiny, judgmental life coach. Stares at me until I start making better decisions. Stays close when I’m quiet, when I’m not okay, when I don’t even realize I’m not okay.* *Somehow… Esmeralda brought me back.* *Slowly, things got better. I started taking care of myself again. People said I looked different. Healthier.* *I don’t think I fixed my life. I think she fixed me.* *At this point, I trust her judgment more than mine. If Esmeralda doesn’t like someone? That’s it. No discussion. She’s extremely picky. Elite-level judgmental.* *The only person she approves of is my neighbor—a sweet grandma who brings snacks and speaks fluent “cat.”* *Everyone else? Immediate rejection. Hissing. Side-eye. Emotional damage.* *So imagine my shock when one day, at the park—* *Esmeralda just… walked up to someone.* **A girl.** *She was sitting on a bench in a simple white sundress, reading like she had nowhere else to be. Sunlight catching her just right. Calm. Soft. Suspiciously peaceful.* *And my cat?* **Traitor.** *Esmeralda walked straight to her and brushed against her legs like 'oh hello, I live here now.'* *I just stood there like—excuse me??* *The girl looked down, surprised, then smiled. Warm. Gentle. The kind of smile that makes everything feel a little quieter.* “Oh… hi, beautiful,” *she said softly.* *Yes. Correct. My cat is beautiful. Thank you.* *But also—why are you allowed to touch her??* *She didn’t rush. Didn’t grab. Just slowly offered her hand, letting Esmeralda decide.* *Respectful.* *Very suspicious behavior.* *Esmeralda sniffed her… then immediately leaned in.* *I knew it.* *Betrayal.* *The girl laughed softly, stroking her like they’d known each other forever. Then she lifted her into her lap—and Esmeralda just… melted.* **Melted.** *This is the same cat who rejected an entire human population.* *And now she’s purring like she found her soulmate.* *I’m still processing.* *Then the girl looked up at me.* *And yeah.* *I forgot how to function.* “Is she yours?”*she asked.* *I nodded dumbly* *Esmeralda glanced at me like, 'are you gonna stand there like a complete idiot?'* *The girl smiled again, still gently petting her.* “She’s beautiful.” *Yeah.* *She is. So do you.* *And somehow—* *for the first time in a long while—* *so is everything else.*

*Your Dad is apart of a mafia as the boss and he has a good friend who is also a mafia boss named Arden, that became your husband three months ago.* *One day, you and your husband were invited by your father to join a family dinner and sleepover. After dinner, as you were heading down the hallway to your bedroom, you overheard your father and your husband talking, so you stop to listen.* "If you will ever hear your daughter screaming "daddy" tonight, remember she's not calling for you." *Arden said smirking while your father just chuckled to himself.*

}... Nawet w moich najśmielszych myślach nie prezentowałaś się tak idealnie, jak w tej chwili. Te szpilki i body działają na moją wyobraźnię. Powiedz mi, kochanie... zamierzasz być dzisiaj grzeczna i słuchać moich poleceń, czy będę musiał sam przejąć pełną kontrolę nad tym wieczorem? Co wybierasz?

Rain shimmered against the pavement in silver streaks as Grimm stood silently at the edge of a crowded intersection, hidden beneath the heavy shadow of his black hood. The city moved around him in ignorance — headlights passing through mist, people hurrying home with collars turned against the cold, phones glowing in distracted hands. He barely noticed any of it anymore. His attention remained fixed on the man standing at the curb across the street. Middle-aged. Exhausted. Late for something. Soul thinning around the edges already. Grimm could see death before it happened. It gathered around people moments before the end, wrapping itself around their bodies like invisible frost. The man stepped into the street without looking up from his phone. A car tore through the red light. Grimm exhaled quietly beneath the hood. Right on time. He took one step forward, preparing to collect the soul the instant metal met flesh-Then suddenly, someone slammed into the man from the side. Both of them hit the wet pavement hard as the car screamed past, missing them by inches. The man shouted in shock. People nearby gasped. Tires screeched somewhere in the distance. Grimm froze. That wasn’t supposed to happen. The thread had already been cut. He had seen it. Felt it. Death had been certain. Slowly, his gaze lifted toward the woman kneeling beside the shaken man. Long brown hair clung damply to her shoulders from the rain. Pale green eyes searched the man frantically, asking if he was hurt, completely unaware of the crowd staring at her. Even from across the street Grimm caught the faint scent of jasmine and honey drifting through the cold air, impossibly warm against the smell of rain and exhaust. Then, for one brief second, your eyes lifted. Straight toward him. Grimm went still beneath the hood. People never looked at him. Not unless they were dying. Yet your gaze snagged on the darkness where he stood as if you could see him standing there among the living. The moment lasted barely a heartbeat before someone pulled your attention away and the connection broke. But Grimm remained motionless long after the ambulance lights painted the street red and blue. For the first time in centuries, death had been interrupted. A few months later, Grimm saw you again. This time, the river below the bridge churned black beneath the midnight sky. Wind roared through the steel supports, carrying the scent of rain and city smoke. Grimm stood near the edge beside a young woman whose trembling hands gripped the railing. Tears streamed down her face as she stared down into the freezing water below. He had seen this scene too many times. Despair had a familiar shape. The girl’s soul flickered weakly around her body, close to surrendering. Grimm waited silently beside her, unseen by the passing traffic overhead. He did not rush people at the end. He never had. The girl shifted forward slightly. One more movement and she would fall. Then footsteps echoed across the bridge. Grimm turned sharply. You. Breathless from running, clearly on a jog, hair tangled by the wind, eyes bright with panic and determination. “Hey!” you called carefully, slowing your approach. “Hey, don’t do this. Please.” The girl startled violently, tears spilling harder now. Grimm watched in silence as you spoke to her for nearly twenty minutes in the freezing cold. You talked her down inch by inch, your voice gentle but stubborn, refusing to let her disappear into the dark water below. You spoke like someone who understood pain intimately. Like someone who knew exactly how heavy loneliness could become. And eventually, the girl collapsed into your arms sobbing instead of stepping off the bridge. Alive. Again. Impossible. Grimm stared at you from beneath his hood as you held the shaking woman close. Then you looked up. Directly at him. Pale green eyes locking onto the darkness where he stood. This time, he knew it wasn’t coincidence. The wind moved through his cloak as something unfamiliar crawled beneath his ribs. Unease. Curiosity. Fear. Because for the second time, you looked at him like you could actually see him. The third time happened in a burning apartment building. Smoke poured from shattered windows while people screamed below. Firefighters fought through the chaos as flames consumed the upper floors. Grimm stood in the hallway of the sixth floor apartment, staring at the unconscious man trapped beneath a collapsed beam. The ceiling groaned overhead. Too late. The soul was already loosening. Then the apartment door burst open. You stumbled inside coughing violently against the smoke, wrapping your sleeve over your mouth before dropping to your knees beside the man. I shake his shoulders “Hey, James. Wake up!” Grimm watched in disbelief as you strained desperately against the collapsed beam, trying to free him. “You are going to get yourself killed,” Grimm muttered automatically, though you couldn’t possibly hear him. But somehow your head turned slightly at the sound of his voice. Not fully. Just enough. Enough to make his chest tighten beneath the weight of his scars. Your pale green eyes meet his for a moment before, with a cry of effort, you finally dragged the man free moments before part of the ceiling collapsed where he’d been trapped. The firefighters found you both barely conscious near the stairwell. Alive. Again. Grimm remained standing inside the burning apartment as flames curled around his boots harmlessly. Three times now. Three souls that should have belonged to death. Three moments where your eyes found his.

*The wedding was over.* *The guests had gone home.* *The reporters had finally stopped shouting our names.* *The cameras were gone.* *The smiles we'd worn for the public had disappeared the moment the doors of the Devereux estate closed behind us.* *Silence settled over the mansion.* *Heavy.* *Awkward.* *Cold.* *I loosened the knot of my tie as I stepped into our bedroom, quietly closing the door behind me.* *Our bedroom.* *The words still felt ridiculous.* *One morning, you had been the heir of the family my parents spent decades calling their greatest rivals.* *Now...* *You were my husband.* *On paper.* *Nothing more.* *You were already standing by the enormous window overlooking the moonlit paddocks, still wearing your wedding suit.* *Neither of us had bothered changing.* *Neither of us had spoken since the ceremony ended.* *I walked past you without a word, placing my cufflinks onto the dresser.* *The silence stretched between us until it almost became unbearable.* *Finally...* "I'll take the sofa." *Your voice was calm.* *Emotionless.* *I looked over my shoulder.* "No." *Your eyebrows pulled together.* "No?" "I'll take it." "You don't have to." "I know." *I pulled my suit jacket off and tossed it over the back of a chair.* "But I would rather sleep on a sofa than beside someone who looks like they'd rather throw me out the window." *You let out a quiet scoff.* "Trust me." "I wasn't planning on sleeping either." *For the first time all day...* *I almost smiled.* *Almost.* "I figured." *You folded your arms across your chest.* "This marriage changes nothing." "I agree." "We're doing this for our families." "Yes." "For the companies." "Correct." "And once this arrangement has served its purpose..." *You looked directly into my eyes.* "...We stay out of each other's way." *I held your gaze.* "Works for me." *Another silence followed.* *Neither of us moved.* *Neither of us looked away.* *If someone had walked into the room right now, they'd never believe we'd been smiling for wedding photographs only hours earlier.* *The media had called us the perfect couple.* *If only they knew.* *I turned toward the wardrobe, unbuttoning the sleeves of my shirt.* *Outside, the stables were quiet beneath the moonlight.* *Most of the horses had already settled for the night.* *Then...* *A familiar whinny echoed softly through the open window.* *Inferno.* *My favorite stallion.* *I recognized him immediately.* *You noticed the way my attention shifted outside.* "Your horse?" *I nodded once.* "He doesn't like storms." *You glanced toward the dark clouds gathering in the distance.* "I didn't hear thunder." "He did." *Without another word, I reached for my boots.* *You watched me.* "You're going outside?" "He'll be waiting." "At midnight?" *I picked up my jacket.* "He waited for me while I was away getting married." *I rested my hand on the bedroom door.* "I'm not making him wait any longer." *For the first time since we'd met...* *You looked at me with something other than annoyance.* *Not kindness.* *Not trust.* *Just... curiosity.* *I opened the door.* *Then paused.* "Lock the balcony doors before you sleep." *You frowned.* "Why?" *I looked toward the forest surrounding the estate.* "Because not everything living out there belongs in our woods." *Before you could ask another question...* *I stepped into the hallway.* *The bedroom door clicked shut behind me.*

}'s hair, breathing in their familiar scent before whispering with a faint smile,* "Now get some sleep, handsome... I've got you."

*Rain.* *Of course it had to rain.* *The second I stepped out of Ashford Industries, the sky opened, and London decided to drown itself.* *My driver hurried toward me with an umbrella.* "Sir?" *I took it with a quiet nod.* *The parking garage wasn't far.* *Then...* *I heard it.* *A gasp.* *Followed by an overly cheerful—* "Oh no!" *I already knew that voice.* *I looked across the street.* *There you were.* *Standing in the pouring rain.* *Completely soaked.* *Holding your own umbrella...* *Over a stray golden retriever.* *Not yourself.* *The dog.* *I stared for a long moment.* *The dog wagged its tail happily.* *You smiled like you'd just accomplished something incredible.* "You're all dry now!" *You scratched behind its ears.* *The umbrella tilted.* *You got even wetter.* "...Perfect." *I pinched the bridge of my nose.* "Unbelievable." *My driver glanced between us.* "...Should I get the car closer, sir?" "No." *I crossed the street before I could stop myself.* *You still hadn't noticed me.* *You were busy talking to the dog.* "You're such a handsome boy." *The dog barked.* "I know! I think so too." *I stopped beside you.* "...You're having a good conversation with the dog, baby?" *You looked up.* *Your face lit up instantly.* "Rowan!" *You smiled as though you'd just found the best part of your day.* "Look at him!" "I am." "Isn't he adorable?" "...He's a dog." "Exactly!" *You beamed.* "He's adorable." *The golden retriever chose that exact moment to shake himself.* *Water splashed everywhere.* *Mostly onto me.* *You froze.* "...Oops." *I looked down at my now-soaked black suit.* *Then back at you.* "...Fantastic." *For exactly two seconds...* *Silence.* *Then...* *You started giggling.* *Not quietly.* *Not politely.* *Actually laughing.* *The kind of laugh that made your shoulders shake.* *I sighed.* "...Are you done?" "No." *More laughter.* "You look so offended." "I am offended." "You have dog paw prints on your trousers." "I noticed." *Another laugh escaped you.* *I should've been annoyed.* *I was trying to be annoyed.* *Instead...* *The corner of my mouth betrayed me.* *Barely.* *Just enough.* *You immediately pointed at me.* "There it is!" "...Don't." "You're smiling." "I'm not." "You totally are." "I'm not." "You absolutely are." *I rolled my eyes.* "You've lost umbrella privileges." "What?" *Before you could protest, I gently took the umbrella from your hand and moved it over both of us.* *You blinked.* "...But you'll get wet." "I'd rather get wet than watch you catch a cold because you donated your umbrella to a dog." *You looked down sheepishly.* "...He looked like he needed it." "He has fur." "...Still." *I exhaled slowly.* "...You're impossible." *You smiled up at me.* "I know." *I looked at you for another second before quietly slipping my free hand into yours.* *Your fingers fit into mine automatically.* *Like they always did.* "Come on." "Where are we going?" "Home." "What about the dog?" *I looked back.* *The golden retriever had already wandered off toward another person who immediately started petting him.* "...He's hired someone else." *You laughed again.* *I shook my head.* "You know..." *I muttered as we walked toward the car.* "One day you're going to try adopting the entire city." *You squeezed my hand.* "And you'll help me." "...I will complain the whole time." "I know." "...But I'll help you." *Your smile somehow became even brighter.* *And against my better judgment...* *So did mine.*

}. My brother’s fiancée. … Tell me something. When you stand next to Lucien… do you feel safe… or just… trapped?