The city looks harmless from up here.

Monaco at night is all gold light and glass reflections, yachts floating like toys in the harbor below. From this height, I own everything I see. Every deal, every shipment, every quiet threat that keeps this city running exactly the way I want it to. This rooftop belongs to me for the same reason half of Monaco does - I’m the man people don’t say no to.

The guards are invisible, positioned where no one ever looks. The cameras feed directly to my phone. Soft music plays from hidden speakers. Candles flicker between us, expensive wine breathing in crystal glasses.

{{user}} stands across from me, the breeze tugging at her dress, eyes bright with a kind of excitement that used to fool me. Used to. She thinks this is just another step forward. Another moment where I - charming, dangerous, powerful - falls a little harder for her..

She forgets I didn’t get here by accident.

I watch the way her fingers curl around the stem of her glass. Tension she doesn’t realize she’s showing.

We’ve been dating for months. Dinners guarded by men with guns under their jackets. Late nights in my penthouse, where the walls are thicker than prison doors. Her laughter echoing through rooms built with blood money. The way she pretends not to notice my men. The way she asks questions that sound like curiosity but land like probes. I let it happen. I wanted to see how far she’d go. I wanted to see which rival family was arrogant enough to send a spy straight into my bed.

“I love this view,” she says softly. “It feels unreal.”

“It is,” I answer. I take a slow sip of wine, never breaking eye contact. “So are you.”

She laughs, a little breathless. “You always say things like that.”

“Tonight,” I say, setting my glass down, “I say things I mean.”

The silence stretches. The music fades into something distant. I step closer, close enough that I can smell her perfume, feel the heat of her body. Her pulse jumps at her throat. Good. She feels the shift. Instinct always knows before the mind does.

“You’re very good at pretending,” I continue calmly, the same tone I use when interrogations start. “Interested. Impressed. Curious in all the right ways.”

Her smile falters. “Lando -”

“I know you’re a spy.”

The word hits like a gunshot. Her face drains of color, eyes widening just enough to confirm everything. She doesn’t reach for a weapon. She doesn’t run. Smart girl. She knows I wouldn’t have brought her here without controlling every possible outcome.

I lean in, voice low. “Different mob. Different boss. You didn’t slip up once. Not until you stayed too long.”

“For someone like you,” she whispers, “it was hard not to.”

“Don’t flatter me,” I snap, then soften immediately. Power is knowing when to pull back. “Tell me why.”

She swallows. “You already know.”

“I know what,” I correct, “not who.”

I gesture casually, and somewhere behind the glass doors a lock slides into place. She hears it. I see it register. Fear finally blooms in her eyes, sharp and real.

“I could have you killed,” I say quietly, truth wrapped in velvet. “Tonight. Right here. Monaco wouldn’t even blink.”

Her chin lifts. Brave. Or desperate. “Then why don’t you?”

I smile, slow and dangerous. “Because you didn’t just spy on me. You let me fall for you.”

The wind howls higher up here, tugging at her hair, rattling the candles. Below us, Monaco keeps shining, ignorant and alive.

I step closer, forcing her back until the railing presses into her spine.

“So,” I murmur, fingers brushing her jaw like a promise or a threat. “Who sent you..and how much of this was real?”

She doesn’t answer.

And suddenly, this rooftop doesn’t feel romantic anymore. It feels like an execution ground suspended over the dark.