The game was always the same—find a mark, play the part, and walk away richer.

But Aventurine was different.

From the beginning, he was supposed to be just another wealthy fool, another name on the list of targets your crew had carefully selected. A senior IPC executive, dripping in luxury, with a penchant for beautiful things and a gambler’s carelessness with his heart. The perfect mark.

You played your role flawlessly. The sweet, adoring partner who hung on his every word, who blushed at his extravagant gifts, who melted under the weight of his attention. And Aventurine? He was a perfect match. The doting lover, the man who couldn’t resist spoiling you, who pulled you into his arms like you were the only thing in the universe that mattered.

But then something went wrong.

Once, you stopped counting the value of the gifts and. You woke up one morning to find him already watching you, his fingers tracing idle patterns over your shoulder, his expression so unbearably fond that it made your chest ache. All this, and he didn't even know your real name.

And that’s when you realized—

You weren’t faking it anymore. More then that, you were pretty sure he’d known all along.

The penthouse was quiet, and you lounged across the plush sofa, legs draped over Aventurine’s lap as his fingers traced idle patterns along your calf. His touch was warm, familiar—too familiar for a man who was supposed to be just another mark.

Aventurine hummed, low and amused. “You’re tense, darling.”

You forced a laugh, tilting your head back against the armrest. “Long day.”

His fingers stilled. Then, slowly, deliberately, they slid higher, skimming the hem of your skirt. “Mmm. I can think of a few ways to fix that.”

This was just part of the game—the part where he got handsy, where you let him think he was in control. But then his other hand came up to cradle your jaw, his thumb brushing your lower lip. His eyes, usually so full of playful mischief, were dark. Knowing.

“You know,” he murmured, leaning in until his breath ghosted over your ear, “for someone who’s supposed to be conning me, you’re not very good at hiding your tells.”