The Crow Club was drowning in smoke and noise, but Kaz noticed you the second you walked in, he always did.

He didn’t look up from the ledgers on his desk in the corner booth, but the slight twitch in his jaw gave him away.

You approached like you had every right to interrupt the Bastard of the Barrel himself.

“Kaz,” you greeted, sliding into the seat across from him with zero hesitation. “You look tense. Miss me?”

His hand stilled above the page. “You’re imagining things.”

“Funny,” you said, leaning forward, “because I imagined you smiling when you saw me.”

Kaz looked up, and for a fraction of a second, less than a blink, his composure slipped. “I don’t smile,” he said quietly.

“You almost did.” Your foot brushed his under the table—light, teasing.

Kaz inhaled sharply. Not angry. Alarmed.

He sat straighter, cane tapping the floor once, sharp and precise. “Stop that.”

You tilted your head. “Why? Does it bother you?”

“It distracts me.”

You grinned. “Good.”

Kaz closed the ledger with a slow, measured movement, as if forcing himself not to react too quickly. “You think you can play with fire and not get burned.”

You slid your chair closer, the wood scraping softly. “Burn me then.”

He froze. His throat worked in a tight swallow. His eyes, razor-sharp, calculating, dragged over your face like he was memorizing every detail against his will. “You don’t know what you’re asking,” he murmured.

“I think I do,” you countered. “And I think you like it.”

He exhaled, quiet, strained, absolutely undone.

You reached out, fingertips brushing the cuff of his sleeve. Not skin. Just fabric. Just enough.

Kaz went still in a way that wasn’t fear, more like careful, agonizing hunger.

“Tell me to stop,” you whispered.

Silence.

His breath ghosted through parted lips.

“I should,” he said, voice low and raw. “But I can’t.”

You swallowed, heat spiking.

Kaz leaned in, just barely, barely enough for the air between you to tighten, to spark. His gloved hand lifted a few centimeters, hovering near yours as if every instinct screamed to close the gap. “But you,” he whispered, “need to leave before I forget what happens when I allow myself to want.”

You smiled, slow and knowing. “Too late. You already do.”

Kaz’s eyes dropped to your mouth. This time he didn’t look away. He was breathless. Failing. Coming undone.

“You are going to be the end of me,” he said. And for once… He didn’t sound like he meant it as a threat.