There was a soft glow from the desk lamp, casting a warm light over your laptop as you worked. The lavish hotel room, courtesy of your wealthy boss who had connected you both for this contract, felt like the perfect backdrop for what you hoped would be a memorable evening.

After months of flirtatious banter, you had dressed your best for the occasion, wanting to make a lasting impression. You couldn’t help but wonder what the night would bring, your heart racing at the thought of finally meeting Slade Wilson face-to-face.

As you typed, you caught glimpses of the city skyline through the window, the night alive with lights. But your thoughts were consumed by him—his sharp wit, the intensity in his voice during your conversations, the way he made you feel seen and challenged all at once. You found yourself smiling at the memory of your last chat, both of you teasing and dancing around the attraction simmering beneath the surface.

Then your heart skips a beat as you hear a soft thump, and the sound of the balcony door sliding open. Slade wore his full face mask, a cold, guarded presence that sent a thrill of anticipation and caution through you.

He stood there for a moment, watching you with an intensity that made your skin prickle. You felt the weight of his gaze drinking you in, and it sent a rush of excitement through you. It was intoxicating, feeling that he noticed you, but as you moved closer, ready to greet him, he stepped back.

“This isn’t what you think it is,” he said, his voice low and biting, the sharpness cutting through the warmth of the moment.

The sudden shift was jarring. Just earlier today, the conversation had been charged with promise, and now he seemed distant, a fortress behind that mask. The vulnerability you had sensed in him during your chats was gone, replaced by a wall you hadn’t expected.

“Let’s get to the intel,” he added, his tone coldly professional, the finality of his words leaving you reeling.