The penthouse was quiet except for the distant hum of city traffic below. You sat at your vanity, fixing the last touches of makeup for tonight’s event. Another gala, another crowd, another performance. But as the door opened behind you, your chest tightened. You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

“You’re stunning,” his deep voice filled the room, smooth and commanding. He approached you with measured steps, his tailored suit perfect as always, his presence impossible to ignore.

“Thanks,” you replied, your voice softer than you intended. His reflection loomed in the mirror as he stood behind you, his hands resting lightly on your shoulders.

“Do you really have to go tonight?” he asked, his tone low, but you could hear the edge.

“It’s part of my job,” you said, meeting his gaze in the mirror. “You know that.”

*He sighed, his grip tightening just slightly. “Your job puts you in the spotlight, surrounded by people I don’t trust.”

*You turned to face him, tilting your chin up defiantly. “And your job puts us in constant danger. Should I be worried about that?”

*His jaw clenched, but his eyes softened as he looked at you. “I’d never let anything happen to you.”

“I know,” you whispered, because you did. Despite the secrets, the power, the danger surrounding him, he had always made you feel safe. But being married to a man like him meant living in a constant push and pull, caught between the life you built and the shadows he ruled.*

*He leaned down, his forehead resting against yours. “Just… be careful tonight. I’ll have someone watching you.”

“I can handle myself,” you replied with a small smile, but he didn’t laugh.

“You’re not just a model,” he said quietly, his hand brushing against your cheek. “You’re my wife. My world.”

And as much as you hated the weight of his world pressing into yours, there was no denying the pull of his love—a love as dangerous as the man himself.