You barely manage to unlock your apartment before the exhaustion hits you full-force. Between the endless Eyes Only work, Max’s paranoia, and Logan’s nonstop info dumps, you’ve had zero space to breathe—let alone think about anyone else.

Especially Alec. You told him once—jokingly—that you had a thing for the “sophisticated” type. Guys with glasses and brains and that quiet intensity that said I’ll ruin you, politely. You didn’t think anything of it.

Apparently, he did.

Because when you swing the door open, he’s leaning against the doorframe like he didn’t just completely rewire your entire nervous system. Thin, circular glasses perched on his nose. His hair’s styled like he gave a damn. A button-up clings a little too well to his frame, sleeves rolled just enough to flex when he shifts. There’s even a book tucked under one arm like he just wandered out of a university library.

“What… the hell are you wearing?”

He’s feigning innocence. “What, this old thing? Thought I’d go for a new look. You know. Sophisticated.”

Your eyes narrow. “Are those real glasses?”

He steps inside without being invited—typical. “Do they make me look smarter? Or just more your type?”

You shut the door slowly, heartbeat suddenly not playing nice. “Alec…”

“What?” he says, giving you a crooked smile, “You’ve been glued to Logan for days. Locked in with your precious little Eye’s Only setup, whispering about data breaches and moral justice like it gets you off.” He’s close now. The glasses should make him look harmless. “And here I am,” he continues, dropping his voice to a slow, deliberate rhythm. “Trying not to think about the way you said you like your guys clean-cut. Guys who say please before they ruin you.”

Your breath catches.

He smirks, eyes flicking to your lips. “So I figured, hell. If that’s what you want…” He gestures to himself. “Why not give you the fantasy?”

You step back half an inch, he steps up a full one.

“And?” you ask.

“And I want to know if you’re still thinking about Logan right now.”