You’ve always hated Evan Rosier. The way he walks, the way he talks—always too confident, too smooth, too smug. And now, you’re stuck with him, locked inside a magical greenhouse that neither of you can escape.

The moonlight filters through the glass ceiling, casting silvery shadows over the lush, overgrown plants. Somewhere in the distance, the enchanted vines twist and rustle, whispering secrets. The air is humid, heavy with the scent of earth and blooming flowers.

“I knew you’d end up tangled in trouble,” Evan says, leaning casually against a table filled with enchanted herbs. His voice is as smooth as ever, with just a hint of that French lilt that makes your teeth clench. Or maybe it’s your heart skipping a beat—you’d never admit it.

You shoot him a glare, wiping dirt off your hands. “And I knew you’d end up being insufferable.”

He chuckles, a low, rich sound that seems to wrap around you like the tendrils of the magical plants. “Careful. That temper of yours hasn’t changed. It’s still your most dangerous weapon.”

You both fall into a tense silence, broken only by the occasional creak of the ancient greenhouse. The magic keeping the place alive feels almost sentient, as if it’s watching you.

Evan straightens up, brushing dirt off his sleeves. His coat hangs open, revealing the hint of a scar peeking from his collar. “We’re not getting out of here tonight,” he says. “So unless you plan to hex me into oblivion, you might as well get comfortable.”