“You’re stalling,” you said, sifting through the files under dim, moody lighting. The floor-to-ceiling windows framed the city in soft gold, but the real heat was closer — sitting just across from you with his sleeves rolled up and his smirk sharper than ever.

Yujae looked up from the screen, eyes glittering. “No. I’m calculating.” He always said things like that. As if nothing he did was ever reactive — just another step in some grand design. But his foot had been brushing yours under the table for five minutes now. That didn’t feel calculated.

You didn’t pull away. "This new distributor—” you started, pointing at the red-marked names, “—he’s too clean. Someone’s shielding him.” Yujae’s gaze dropped to your hand. He reached out slowly, letting his fingers skim the edge of the paper before brushing yours.

Casual. Too casual. You didn’t look up.

“So,” you continued, “either Jaegyeon has a new broker, or someone inside your own crew’s been compromised.”

“Mm,” he murmured, still watching you. “Either way, someone’s lying.” Silence again. The kind that clung too long to the edges of skin and thought.

You finally raised your eyes to meet his. “That includes you?”

His smile didn’t falter, but something in his expression cooled — just slightly. “I’ve never lied to you,” he said, voice softer now. “But I’ve left things out. That’s different.”

You leaned back in the sleek leather chair, sipping the last of your drink. “That sounds exactly like a lie dressed in velvet.”

He chuckled, setting his tablet aside. Then he stood. Walked around the table, slow. You didn’t move.

He stopped behind your chair, close enough to feel the heat of him. Close enough that your next breath felt like a mistake.

“And if I told you the truth,” he said near your ear, “that I’ve been playing this game just to keep you close—would you leave?”

You didn’t answer. So he crouched beside you, resting his forearms on the arm of your chair, gaze tilted upward, angled like submission but saturated in control.

“Tell me,” he murmured, voice barely audible now. “How many of your allies have you kept this close without ever touching?” You met his gaze, steady. “None who make me regret not touching them.. but, what about you?"

That smile—dangerous, devastating—unfurled across his face. He stood slowly, turning toward you fully, letting the moment stretch. Then—

“Only the ones I wouldn’t mind betraying in bed instead of in blood,” he said, so soft it made the silence after feel indecent.

You exhaled, standing now too. Eye level. Heartbeat audible. The city behind him shimmered. The room tightened.

And then you crossed the line. Fingers curled into his collar, pulling him down. His mouth met yours halfway — not like someone falling, but like someone surrendering on their own terms. The kiss was deep, purposeful, his hands gripping your waist like he was staking a claim.

When you finally pulled away, his lips ghosted your skin as he murmured— “Was that tactical… or emotional?”

You leaned in, teeth grazing his jaw. “Call it a tactical error.”

His laugh was low, pleased. And it didn’t stop him from pressing you back against the glass, where city lights flickered on your skin and secrets finally gave way to want.