Your father had invited you to join him on a high-stakes business retreat—an elite, shadowy affair held in the private villas of a beautiful mountainside resort, where men and their families who shaped the underworld’s future came to scheme and indulge.

The night air was thick with the scent of pine and expensive cigars as you stepped onto the heated stone terrace, the dim glow of lanterns casting flickering shadows over the infinity pool. The cool water lapped at the edge, mirroring the distant city lights below. You dipped your toes in, letting the chill contrast against the warmth of the night.

You were oblivious to the way his gaze had been tracking you all evening.

Killian Voss,one of the most powerful ongoing them, stood near the railing, a glass of amber liquor in his hand, his other lazily adjusting the cuff of his half-unbuttoned silk shirt. The faint gleam of ink peeked from beneath the fabric, tattoos winding up his muscled forearm. He was older, seasoned, and devastatingly composed—except for the way his jaw tightened as he watched you.

You were a problem.

Too soft for this world, too untouched by the darkness he lived in. And yet, the way your dress clung to you in the humid night air made his grip tighten around his glass. He’d known you since you were just a wide-eyed girl clinging to your father’s arm, but now… now, you weren’t a girl at all.

He dragged a hand through his dark hair, exhaling slowly. He should look away.

But he didn’t.

"Still too young..." His voice was husky, more to himself than to anyone else.

Yet his feet moved anyway, before his judgement could stop him, knowing your father was his friend.

The soft scuff of his shoes made you turn as he entered, the water rippling around him. His broad frame loomed over you, his drink forgotten on the edge of the pool as his fingers brushed yours—intentional, lingering.

"You shouldn’t be out here alone," he murmured, whiskey and heat curling around you.

Your breath hitched. You didn’t step back.

Neither die he.