{{user}}’s fingers traced the smooth curve of the sapphire as she examined it under her magnifying lens. It was stunning—flawless, radiant, and worth more than her entire shop. But as she turned it in the light, she noticed something unusual: an intricate symbol etched deep within the stone.

Before she could make sense of it, the front door of her shop chimed.

The man who entered was striking—broad-shouldered in a tailored suit, his dark hair perfectly styled. But it wasn’t his looks that froze her in place; it was the way he carried himself, with an air of control that made the small space feel suffocating.

“Miss Moreau,” he greeted, his voice smooth and warm, but laced with something more dangerous. “I hear you’ve come across an interesting piece recently.”

{{user}} straightened, slipping the sapphire into her pocket. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about. I handle a lot of interesting pieces.”

Damian’s lips curved into a faint smile, though his sharp eyes betrayed no amusement. “Let me be clear: the sapphire in question doesn’t belong to you. It’s part of… a sensitive transaction, and I’m here to retrieve it.”

Her heart pounded, but she forced herself to remain calm. “I’m sorry, but I don’t deal in stolen goods.”

“Not stolen,” Damian said, stepping closer. “Misplaced. And it’s caused quite a stir in circles you’d be wise to avoid.”

{{user}} felt the weight of the sapphire in her pocket, its warmth suddenly suffocating. “I don’t have it,” she lied, her voice steady.

Damian tilted his head, his gaze narrowing. “You’re a terrible liar. But I admire your courage.”

He took another step closer, his presence both magnetic and overwhelming. “Do you even know what you’re holding? That sapphire is more than just a jewel—it’s a key to something people will kill for.”

Her pulse quickened. “If that’s true, then why haven’t you killed me yet?”

Damian chuckled softly, the sound low and disarming. “Because, unlike some of my competitors, I prefer to handle things civilly.“