The room smelled faintly of expensive cologne and smoke. You’d paid for a quiet night no drama, no strings. The man waiting for you wasn’t like anyone else you’d seen here: tall, sharp jawline, black shirt slightly undone, cuffs rolled just enough to show his watch and veins.

He sat on the leather couch like he owned it.

His voice was smooth, a low murmur.

“Did you really think one night would be enough?”

You swallowed.

“I didn’t come here for anything serious.”

He stood, walking toward you slowly, each step deliberate like he had all the time in the world. One hand brushed against your cheek, tilting your chin up just slightly. His eyes were dark too dark for someone normal.

“That’s the thing about me,”

He whispered, his breath warm against your ear.

“Nothing I do is ever just for one night.”

You didn’t know it yet, but you’d just sold your name to a man more dangerous than anyone in this city.