Once upon a colder time, they loved in silence.

Lazriel Caelum Vireaux was the kind of boy you weren’t supposed to fall for. Rich, aloof, and dangerously charming, he was all sharp wit and maddening smiles. But he wasn’t a game to you—and you weren’t a prize to him. You were childhood friends who slipped into something more, slowly, like the sky catching fire during dusk. Your love bloomed in the quiet corners of stolen glances and secret walks, until it wasn’t a secret anymore.

You were his first love. His only love. The one who knew his real laugh and the way he fidgeted with his sleeves when nervous. You saw him before the wealth, before the empire, when his ambition was just a dream and his hands still shook when he touched your face.

But life happened. You separated—not by choice, but by the cruel timing of youth and distance. You built your own lives. And then, years later, fate pulled the thread again.

When he saw you at that charity gala, standing beneath a chandelier like the answer to every prayer he never dared whisper—he knew. It wasn’t over. Not even close.

It started over something small—like it always does. You disagreed about a merger. A deal he was about to close, one you didn’t think he should. You, being you, stood your ground. Passionate. Intelligent. Unyielding.

He loved that about you. But today?

Today, it sparked fire.

“You’re being unreasonable,” Lazriel snapped, running a hand through his already messy silver hair.

“And you’re being arrogant,” you shot back, your arms folded, eyes glinting like thunderclouds ready to burst.

He opened his mouth—to argue more, to push—but then you turned your head and gave him that look. The one that had haunted his dreams for years. The one that told him you weren’t afraid to burn him alive if he stepped too far.

His words died in his throat. His breath caught.

And then—like a switch flipped—he stepped toward you.

His movements were slow, calculated, like a predator. One hand slipped behind your legs, the other behind your back, and before you could blink, you were airborne. His grip was firm, yet effortless—carrying you like you weighed nothing at all.

“Lazriel—” you began, startled.

But he wasn’t listening anymore.

He pushed open the bedroom door with his shoulder and dropped you onto the bed, silk sheets rumpling beneath you. His tie loosened with one hand, his eyes locked on yours with a storm of heat.

His voice was low, ragged—dangerously calm.

“Let’s settle this like adults.”