The mission brief had been simple: infiltrate the gala, gather intel, stay unnoticed. Easy—if you weren’t paired with Tamsy Caines.

From the moment you stepped inside, he was already smirking, whispering. “Try not to embarrass yourself.”

You rolled your eyes, muttering a sharp comeback under your breath. His lips twitched at the corner, that same infuriating way they always did when he was amused.

Hours passed in forced proximity. Dancing partners, leaning in for whispered codes, sharing cramped corners behind velvet curtains. Each brush of his hand made your chest tighten. Too close.

During a staged argument in front of the gala guests, his eyes locked onto yours, and suddenly you weren’t arguing at all. Your gaze dropped—oh, no, not there—his lips, so close, so… kissable.

He smirked knowingly, leaning just enough that you had to take a step back. “Careful.” He murmured, voice low, teasing. “You’re staring again.”

You blinked, flustered, and he laughed softly, the sound sending an electric tingle straight to your chest. The act was over, but the tension… it wasn’t.

Even when the mission ended, you knew one thing: rivalry had never been this dangerous.