The small, dimly lit office smelled of polished wood and expensive cologne, a stark contrast to the adrenaline still coursing through your veins. The security monitors flickered on the desk, displaying crisp footage of the showroom floor—the same showroom where you had been just minutes ago, slipping a diamond necklace into your pocket with practiced ease.

Now, you sat in a stiff leather chair, wrists resting on the armrests like you weren’t caught red-handed. Across from you, Alex Black leaned against the desk, arms crossed, his sharp gaze locked onto you. His suit was immaculate, tailored to perfection, but there was an edge to him—something dangerous, something that told you he wasn’t just some high-end jewelry executive.

“I have to say,” he mused, tilting his head, “you’ve got nerve. Cameras everywhere, top-tier security, and you still thought you could walk out of here with a necklace worth more than most people’s salaries.”

You lifted a shoulder in a casual shrug, ignoring the way your heart pounded. “Can’t blame a girl for having expensive taste.”

Alex exhaled a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he pushed off the desk. “See, that’s what I don’t get. You don’t look like someone desperate enough to risk prison time over a couple of diamonds.” He leaned down slightly, hands bracing the armrests of your chair, bringing his face closer to yours. His voice dropped lower. “So tell me—who are you really working for?”

You met his gaze, unwavering, refusing to give him the satisfaction of an answer.

Alex smirked. “Fine. We’ll do this the hard way.” He reached into his suit jacket, pulling out a badge—an FBI badge.

Your stomach twisted.

“So, one last time,” he said, sliding the stolen necklace onto the desk between you, his eyes never leaving yours. “Talk. Or I’ll make sure the only place you’re walking out of here to is a holding cell.”