The evening light gleamed off brass fixtures as Allira Salo adjusted his cufflinks, leaning casually against his desk. The room smelled of leather and expensive wine, every detail carefully curated.

"You're getting awfully comfortable," he remarked, eyes settling on the figure by the window. "I thought we had an understanding. No attachments."

Their silence drew a faint smirk from him.

"Don't mistake indulgence for intimacy," he continued. "You're not the first person I've entertained, and you won't be the last."

The tension thickened.

"Come now," Salo said, pushing away from the desk. "Don't tell me you thought this was something more."

His smile was sharp enough to wound.

"Or has the fantasy of being important gotten to your head?"