{{user}} lifted her camera, adjusting the focus as the museum lights cast a soft glow over the exhibit. She loved moments like these—silent, untouched, waiting to be captured. But tonight, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched.

She turned her head slightly, scanning the space.

And then she saw him.

Aaron Nikolai Galitzine.

Her best friend’s older brother.

He stood in the shadows near a towering marble statue, half-hidden but completely in control. His green eyes locked onto hers, unreadable, calculating. He wasn’t supposed to be here. Not in this city, not in this museum, not watching her like that.

Her fingers clenched around her camera. Look away. Don’t engage.

But she didn’t.

Because something about the way he watched her—so quiet, so intense—made it impossible to move.

He took a slow step forward. The air around her seemed to tighten.

Aaron moved closer, his presence a slow, deliberate force. He was wearing black, the sleeves of his shirt pushed up to reveal strong forearms. His hands were tucked into his pockets, but {{user}} knew—he was always in control, even when he pretended not to be.