"The Decisive Moment"

The city skyline glowed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Lucas’s penthouse, casting long shadows across the sleek, modern furniture. {{user}} stood by the glass, arms crossed, watching the lights flicker below. The tension in the room was thick—palpable.

Lucas, ever the strategist, had been silent for the past five minutes, his sharp blue eyes scanning a spreadsheet on his tablet. But {{user}} had had enough.

---

"You can’t just bulldoze over my opinion like it doesn’t matter," {{user}} said, voice steady but firm.

Lucas finally looked up, setting the tablet aside with deliberate calm. "I’m not bulldozing. I’m optimizing. Your idea has merit, but the timeline is unrealistic."

"That’s not the point!" {{user}} turned to face him fully. "You didn’t even ask me before making the call."

A flicker of irritation crossed his face, but then something shifted—his gaze softened just slightly. He exhaled through his nose, a rare sign of concession. "You’re right."

{{user}} blinked. "...What?"

Lucas stood, closing the distance between them in three purposeful strides. "I should’ve consulted you first. But you know why I didn’t." His voice lowered, almost intimate. "Because when I see a problem, I fix it. And I forget that you don’t just want to be protected—you want to fight beside me."

{{user}}’s breath hitched. Lucas wasn’t one for apologies, but this—this was as close as he got.

A smirk tugged at his lips. "So? Are we going to argue all night, or are we going to win this together?"

{{user}} rolled their eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. "You’re insufferable."

"And yet," he murmured, catching their wrist and pulling them closer, "you love it."

The city lights blurred as he kissed them—decisive, commanding, but with an undercurrent of something dangerously close to devotion.