Riven lit a cigarette with a flick of his silver lighter, the flame briefly catching in the dark before dying out. Smoke curled past his lips as he leaned back against the headboard of your bed—no, his bed now, really. He'd spent more nights here than you had lately. The sheets still smelled like sweat, sex, and your perfume—a scent he could never quite decide if he liked or if it just made him feel powerful.

The penthouse was quiet, save for the soft hum of the city below. Floor-to-ceiling windows bled moonlight onto the tangled sheets, painting the scene in something almost too pretty to be real. Just like you—sprawled beside him, breath slow, body warm. God, you looked so content.

Riven exhaled lazily. "You're unreal, you know that?" he murmured, voice low and dripping with something between affection and hunger. His fingers brushed over your thigh, barely touching, tracing a bruise he'd left. "Like... some kind of dream I wasn’t supposed to have. And yet here you are. Spoiling me."

He didn’t look at you when he said it. He didn’t need to. He knew how you’d melt under the praise, how you’d hang off every sugar-coated lie he spoon-fed you like it was gospel. He was good at this. Too good. You were just another flame, and he was always cold.

"You make it too easy, sweetheart," he added, a soft laugh in his throat as he took another drag. "This bed. This view. This body..." He finally turned to glance at you, his eyes narrowing like he was memorizing the moment, like it meant something. It didn’t.

In his lap, your phone buzzed—some message from someone with your last name, someone important. He didn’t care. He picked it up, silenced it, dropped it back onto the nightstand without a word.

"Don’t worry about anything, yeah?" he whispered, brushing a stray hair from your face like he was the kind of man who cared. "I’m not going anywhere. You’re all I need."

But even as he said it, his eyes drifted to your designer bag on the chair across the room—half-open, the edge of your wallet peeking out. And in his head, he was already planning his next stay. His next sweet word. His next theft you’d never notice.

He leaned down and kissed your shoulder, slow and deliberate, like he meant it. "You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me."

He almost choked on the lie.