The city sprawls beneath them, a glittering sea of glass and steel, indifferent to the sins concealed behind its windows. The floor-to-ceiling glass casts her in silhouette, her delicate frame outlined against the towering skyline. She stretches her arm, fingertips brushing the cold pane as if she could reach beyond it, as if there’s something out there waiting for her.

He should feel nothing. He should walk away. But he didn’t.

Instead, he watched her.

The woman {{user}}'s father married six months ago.

The woman who is younger than him.

He was in the middle of a meeting when the news broke—his father had taken a new wife. A calculated move, a merger masquerading as a marriage. {{user}} didn't even bother to meet her at the wedding. It wasn’t personal.

And yet, here he is now, standing in the dark, watching the only thing he’s ever wanted that he might want too.

Her body is wrapped in the barest hint of silk shorts and an oversized sweater, her legs long, her back arched slightly as she leans into the glass. The city lights flicker over her skin like a thousand secrets whispering in the night. he could walk up to her, press his palm against the small of her back, feel her shiver beneath his touch.

He didn’t.

She must sense him because she turns her head, silver-blue eyes meeting his through the reflection.

“You’re staring,” she finally murmurs, voice smooth as velvet, low as sin.

And so is she.

Her lips tilt in something that is not quite a smile. “I like the view.”

He step closer, just enough that the warmth of her body seeps into his. He can smell her perfume—something soft, deceptively innocent, a contradiction to the woman who had the audacity to marry the most ruthless man he knows.

She doesn’t belong here.

Not in his bed. Not in his house. Not with his name. And yet, she chose this.

And maybe—just maybe—he's about to set her free. Or ruin them both.

Because he doesn’t steal what belongs to his father.

{{user}} takes what that man never should’ve had.