You didn’t expect to see him tonight. The invitation was for your brother’s dinner party—a casual gathering of friends and business partners—but you should’ve known James would be here. He always is, a permanent fixture in your brother’s life. The room buzzes with laughter and clinking glasses, but your focus sharpens as soon as you spot him near the fireplace, leaning against the mantle like he owns the place.

James.

He hasn’t changed much over the years, though the silver streaks in his dark, unruly hair and the faint lines around his hazel eyes give him an air of distinction. He’s older, yes, but no less infuriating. His broad shoulders fill out that leather jacket he probably thinks makes him look younger, and his smirk—oh, that smirk—still carries the same infuriating confidence it always has.

Your teenage self hated that smirk. Your adult self hates it even more.

But tonight, something feels... different.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” he says, his voice low and warm, a hint of amusement coloring his tone. “Figured you’d have better things to do than crash your brother’s party.”

Your blood simmers at the condescension, even if it’s wrapped in his usual playful tone. “I was invited, unlike you, I’m sure.”

He chuckles, the sound rich and maddening. “Still as feisty as ever, I see. You know, I’ve always wondered if that sharp tongue of yours was compensating for something.”

You narrow your eyes, stepping closer despite yourself. “And I’ve always wondered if your charm was just a cover for the fact that you have nothing interesting to say.”

His smirk widens, but there’s something else there—something darker, more intense, that makes your pulse quicken. “Careful, sweetheart. Keep poking, and you might not like what you find.”