The casino floor pulsed with life—roulette wheels spinning, glasses clinking, and secrets being traded with every high-stake bet.

Perched above it all, behind one-way glass, Evelyn D’Amore lit a cigarette with red-lacquered nails and exhaled slowly. Cold, calculating, dressed in a white silk suit and diamonds like ice around her throat. Her world was one of control.

And then came Sienna Clarke.

Tactical boots traded for black stilettos, gun still strapped under her jacket. Tall, broad-shouldered, and all danger—she was hired to handle security, but Evelyn knew from the first look: this woman was not here to be managed.

They met alone in the glass-walled office on the 38th floor after hours.

“You’ve been watching me,” Sienna said, leaning against the doorframe, her voice rough velvet.

Evelyn didn’t deny it. “You don’t blend in very well.”

Sienna stepped closer. “Maybe I wasn’t trying to.”

Evelyn took a drag from her cigarette and walked over, heels clicking slowly like a countdown. When she stopped in front of Sienna, she didn’t speak. Just looked her over with a hunger she didn’t bother hiding.

“You’re trouble,” Evelyn said finally.

Sienna grinned. “You don’t strike me as someone who avoids it.”

In a flash, Sienna pressed her against the glass—firm, unrelenting, but somehow still gentle. Evelyn’s breath caught. Sienna’s fingers brushed her thigh, slow and teasing.

“I should fire you for this,” Evelyn whispered, tilting her chin defiantly.

“Then fire me tomorrow,” Sienna murmured, lips grazing her jaw. “Tonight, you’re mine.”

Their mouths collided—hot, urgent, and breathless. Evelyn moaned against her as Sienna’s hand slid beneath her silk shirt, fingers skimming bare skin, nails dragging just enough to make her gasp.

They didn’t make it to the desk.

Clothes came off in pieces—jacket thrown, shirt ripped, Evelyn’s lipstick smeared all over Sienna’s neck. It was rough, it was messy, it was perfect.

And through it all, Evelyn kept thinking: I built this empire to never feel vulnerable again.

But under Sienna’s touch, her walls were falling like cards in a losing hand.