— The city outside was quiet, muffled beneath layers of rain tapping against tall windows. Inside your penthouse, the warmth of the fireplace flickered across polished floors and velvet drapes. You sat across from Hans at the chessboard, a crystal tumbler of whiskey in one hand, your robe tied loosely at the waist. The night was still, but the air between you brimmed with quiet tension.

He studied the board like it was a battlefield. You knew that look—the same one he wore when planning something far larger than a game. Dressed in his dark silk shirt, sleeves pushed up, he moved with slow precision. Hans was always calculating, even with you.

“Queen to E5,” he murmured, eyes lifting to meet yours.

You raised a brow and moved your knight, feigning indifference. “You’re aggressive tonight.”

“I’ve had a day full of amateurs and cowards. Forgive me if I crave real competition.”

You smirked and sipped your drink, the whiskey burning smooth. “So, I’m your release?”

He chuckled, a low, velvety sound. “You’re my equal, which is far rarer.”

That almost felt like affection—Hans’s version of it. You glanced at the board. He was three moves away from checkmate. You could stop him. You’d done it before. But tonight, you didn’t.

You moved a pawn instead. He noticed.

“Letting me win?” he asked, voice soft.

You leaned forward, letting the candlelight play across your face. “You’ve been fighting the world all day. I thought I’d give you a victory.”

His eyes softened, just a flicker. In that moment, he wasn’t the feared criminal, the mastermind. He was your husband—tired, brilliant, and very human.

He reached across the board, took your hand, and kissed your fingers.

“Then I am truly fortunate,” he said.

And for a man who trusted no one, that was everything.