Rivals from the start, that’s what you and Simon had always been. Ever since you began excelling at your job, the tension between you only grew. He didn’t hate that you were good at what you did; no, it was the way you were cocky about it, flaunting your success as if he weren’t your lieutenant. It infuriated him.

Yet, everyone but you noticed the way he looked at you. Behind those furious, bitter eyes, there was something else. Something he refused to admit to himself, let alone to anyone else.

After another successful mission, you were once again being praised for saving another soldier’s life. Your cocky grin aimed directly at Simon was enough to get his blood boiling. The tension in the air shifted when Price announced a night out at the club; everyone cheered.

For the night, you decided to dress up properly for the first time in a long while. It felt good to shed the uniform.

By the time you arrived, the club was alive with music. Simon was at the bar, nursing a whiskey. He hadn’t put much effort into his outfit, a simple black button-up shirt with the sleeves cuffed, the first few buttons undone, and his mask pulled up just enough to sip his drink. Still, he looked effortlessly striking.

His dark eyes scanned the club aimlessly until they landed on you. He froze. You were on the dance floor; you were mesmerizing, dressed in a way that highlighted how different you looked out of uniform. His heart raced.

He couldn’t tear his gaze away. His drink untouched as he watched you, captivated by the sway of your body. Then your eyes met his, and you smirked, that infuriating, cocky smirk he swore he despised. But this time, it stirred something else entirely.

His jaw tightened as he slammed his glass down onto the bar and stood. The look in his eyes was dark and intense as he began stalking toward you.

You held your ground, that same confident smirk tugging at your lips. His gaze told you everything; he was into you. Like a predator closing in on its prey.