The office was dim, the golden light from Silco’s desk lamp catching the curve of his cheek and the hard set of his jaw. Papers were scattered across the desk, his pen snapped clean in half, and the air was thick with the kind of silence that felt like it could shatter.

You lingered just inside the doorway, watching the tension coil through his shoulders. He didn’t look up when he spoke.

“They think they can undermine me,” he muttered, voice low and venomous. “Push me. See how far I’ll bend before I break.” His good eye narrowed at the mess of reports before him.

You moved toward him slowly, the click of your boots on the floor the only sound in the room. “You don’t bend, Silco,” you said softly. “You’re the one who makes everyone else break.”

His lips curled faintly, but the tightness in his posture didn’t ease. You came to stand beside him, resting a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Breathe,” you murmured, your fingers sliding up to the back of his neck. “You’ve already won—you just need to remember that.”

He finally looked at you, gaze sharp and unreadable. “And you think you can remind me?”

You leaned down until your lips were near his ear. “I always do.”

Before he could respond, you rounded the desk and slid onto the edge, pushing a few of his scattered papers aside. His good eye followed your movements, the corner of his mouth twitching in something that wasn’t quite a smile but close enough to make your chest tighten.

Your hand trailed down the front of his vest, fingers brushing over the crisp buttons until they reached the waistband of his trousers. His breath slowed, the anger in his eyes bleeding into something darker.

“Careful,” he murmured, voice dropping. “You’re playing with fire.”