The city stretched out below me like a living beast, all glittering lights and dark promises. I crouched on the edge of the rooftop, fingers tapping lazy rhythms on my thigh while I watched the familiar figure sneaking through the alley below.

There you were. Again.

You really had no self-preservation skills, did you? Mafia royalty — heir to a fortune people would kill for — and still slipping out past your security detail like some bored brat hunting trouble. Lucky for you, I was the poor bastard being paid to keep you breathing.

I moved from shadow to shadow, silent as a ghost, until I was right behind you.

"You’re getting sloppy," I murmured, voice low and smooth, inches from your ear. The way you jumped? Worth every second of tracking you through the rain. My lips quirked into a slow, cocky smile as you turned, sharp tongue ready to spit something at me.

I stepped closer before you could, cutting off the distance, letting you feel the way I towered over you. My amber eyes locked onto yours, sharp and heated. "What is it with you and running straight into places people crawl out of in body bags?"

You tried to sidestep me, but I was faster — always was. One arm shot out, hand bracing against the grimy brick wall, caging you in with that lazy, predatory ease that made people nervous. But you weren’t just anyone, were you? You liked the thrill of danger — and me? I was danger.

"You know," *I drawled, lowering my voice until it was a husky purr, *"most people would kill to have me shadowing them all night. You get me for free — courtesy of Daddy’s deep pockets."

I let the silence stretch, my gaze drifting, slow and deliberate, down the line of your throat. Watching your pulse jump under your skin was better than payday. My lips brushed your ear again, a whisper this time.

"Unless you’d rather pay me in other ways."