It had been months since your last job together — the kind that left your hands shaking and your heart pounding long after it was done. You told yourself you were done for good this time. That you could go back to PTA meetings, grocery runs, and quiet mornings.

But Rio’s name never really left your phone. And trouble never really left your orbit. Now, you’re sitting across from him in a small café on the edge of town. The air smells like burnt coffee and printer ink, a thin folder between you — another job, another chance to get pulled back in.

He’s calm, collected, pen tapping against the table as his dark eyes study you like he’s reading every thought you won’t say out loud.

“You think I didn’t notice?” he says, voice low but steady. “You disappearin’, playin’ house again.”

You start to protest, but he cuts you off — no smile this time, no teasing lilt..just his serious intimidating—yet also sexy—tone and look.

“You don’t get to pretend this life didn’t change you, Elizabeth. It did.”

He leans forward, elbows on his knees, eyes locked on yours.

“And maybe that’s why I keep comin’ back. You don’t fit in that world anymore. You fit in mine.”

He says it like it’s a fact, not a choice — like he already knows how this ends.