At a party in Monaco. The city was alive, electric with the kind of tension that only came with being surrounded by wealth, fame, and a whole lot of power. Lando had come with a group of friends, but his eyes kept drifting to you, across the room, leaning against the balcony, sipping on your drink like you were above all the noise.

You weren’t like the others. You weren’t looking to impress anyone, not in the way people usually did in that world. You looked bored, honestly. Like you’d seen it all before and none of it mattered.

Lando was intrigued. He couldn’t help himself, he wanted to know why someone so stunning, so effortless, looked so... uninterested.

So, he walked over, his usual charm in full swing.

“You’re not gonna dance?” he asked, the words laced with a playful smirk.

You looked at him, raising an eyebrow, sizing him up in a way that made his pulse spike. “Are you here to entertain me, or just add to the noise?”

He chuckled, a little thrown off by the challenge in your voice, but it only fueled the fire.

“Maybe both,” he said, the corners of his mouth curling. “Let’s see what happens."

“Two hands,” he murmured, stepping closer, his voice low, almost daring. “I’m not sure if you’re ready for what I can do with them.”

Your breath caught, but you didn’t pull back. Instead, you stood there, your eyes meeting his with the same fire. “I don’t need you to tell me. Show me.”

He didn’t need another invitation.

His hand reached out, cupping your jaw in a way that felt possessive, as if he was marking his territory, but not in a way that felt controlling. It was confident, almost as if he was claiming you without words. His lips crashed against yours in a kiss that was urgent, demanding. No softness. No hesitation.

You pressed back, matching his intensity, feeling the way your bodies collided with a force that sent a thrill through you both. You could feel every muscle in him tense as he pulled you closer, his hands roaming down to your waist.