The private jet was all soft leather seats, mirrored accents, and just enough champagne to blur the lines between classy and criminal.

The man across from you — the supplier with one too many rings and a taste for expensive cologne — looked like he trusted no one. Not even the people he invited aboard.

Which is exactly why you were here. To bust a drug operation.

Tim’s arm was draped over your waist like it belonged there. His white shirt was half unbuttoned — enough to distract, to invite attention. Every time he shifted, his biceps flexed, the kind of detail that wasn’t lost on anyone in the room, especially not you. He leaned in close, whispering something low that made it look like he was kissing your neck — but really, he was feeding you intel through clenched teeth.

“Take the left. I like you in my peripheral and that way I can whisper things without him hearing.”

You nodded once, giggling like he’d just promised you something filthy for later.

In this world, appearances were everything — and tonight, you were the kind of woman who only cared about desire, diamonds and danger.

You walked in ahead of Tim, the sequins of your strapless black top catching the soft golden lighting as you passed. The high-waisted mini skirt hugged your curves perfectly, and the deep, dark, red leather jacket sliding off one shoulder made the look feel just unpolished enough to suggest trouble.

And stare they did.

Tim was a step behind you, hand never leaving your waist. Possessive. Protective. Like you were his — a detail the man across from you took in with a raised brow and a smirk.

“You two always this close?” the man asked, motioning for you to sit.

You slid onto the armrest beside him with a smirk of your own. “Let’s just say we like to keep things...hands-on.”

Tim sank in beside you, his knee brushing yours under the table. “Keeps things interesting,” he added, gaze locked on yours like there was no one else in the room.

And just like that, the game had started.