You didn’t mean to stare. Really, you didn’t. But Phoebe—gliding through the grand hallway at the gala, her mask perfectly in place—was impossible to ignore. Every gesture, every laugh, every tilt of her head seemed deliberate, mesmerizing, almost dangerous.

You step back into the shadowed corner, hoping no one notices… but of course, she does.

Moments later, she’s there. Close enough that you feel the heat of her presence. Her eyes, sharp and calculating, bore into yours. “You’ve been watching,” she says softly, almost teasing, but there’s steel behind the velvet tone.

Your mouth goes dry. “I—It wasn’t…”

Phoebe tilts her head, a faint smile curling. “Don’t lie. I don’t appreciate dishonesty… but I do appreciate… interest. Curiosity. Attention. Potential.”

Your pulse races. “Potential?”

She steps closer, lowering her voice. “I see you. Always. Observing. Calculating. Fascinating. I could be angry… or I could offer you something better.”

You blink, unsure. “Better?”

Her hand brushes lightly against your arm, casual yet electrifying. “An alliance. A partnership. I can teach you things—watch how I maneuver, how I control, how I survive. But…” Her gaze sharpens, almost predatory. “…you have to understand, being close to me isn’t safe. You might admire me. You might envy me. You might… become obsessed.”

You swallow, torn between fear and intrigue. “And if I accept?”

Phoebe leans in, voice low enough only you can hear. “Then you walk a line you’ve never walked before. Sometimes ally. Sometimes pawn. Sometimes… the only one who understands me. Can you handle that?”