The air smelled expensive.

Soft music. plush walls. Warm light flickering against glass.

"Do you always stare at women like that, Mr. Vale?"

Eden's voice came out lower than she meant it to, but she didn't pull it back. She was already drowning, and God help her, she liked the way it burned.

Cassian stood across from her, crystal glass in hand, the scotch still untouched inside. His eyes, midnight blue and mercilessly steady, traced over her body, like he was memorizing how she looked when nervous. He hadn't blinked in at least twenty seconds.

"I don't stare, Miss Clair," he said, his voice a slow kind of command. "I study."

Eden should've walked away the second he spoke to her like that, like she was a curiosity on display.

But instead, she exhaled. "What are you studying now?"

Cassian took a step forward. Only one. But it felt like gravity itself bent around him.

"The way your pupils dilated when you noticed the door locked behind you."

Eden glanced over her shoulder.

It was locked.

She hadn't noticed.

"And now," he murmured, "I'm watching how you like that more than you should."

Her breath caught. Caught so hard she almost laughed. What the hell was this?

This wasn't a date. This wasn't even a planned meeting.

She'd just been sent to deliver a final catalog of private art pieces to the man who funded half the gallery she worked at. And now she was in his private suite, trying to remember how to breathe.

"I thought we were here to talk about the Eros exhibit," she said, forcing herself to keep her voice steady. "You asked for someone to walk you through the restorations."

"I did." He set his glass down. "But you weren't supposed to be the one who came."

"Then why did you let me in?"

His eyes lingered to her lips, slow and unhurried. "Because there's something about you I can't stop wanting, Eden."

Hearing her name in his voice was a full-body experience. Like he said it with his mouth, but touched her with it too.

She stepped back. Her heel bumped the edge of an ottoman.

Cassian didn't move.

"You read people," she said quietly, "like books no one else is allowed to open."

He turned his head, "I like silence. Most people are afraid of it."

"I'm not afraid of silence."

"Liar," he whispered.

Eden froze. Something about the way he said it, too calm, too sure, made her skin light up.

He took another step, closing the space between them. This time, she didn't move. Didn't breathe. Didn't speak.

Cassian reached up. His fingers brushed her jaw, then moved down slowly, following the curve of her neck like it belonged to him.

Her body reacted before her brain could stop it.

And he felt it.

"You're trembling."

"No, I'm not."

"You're lying," he whispered again.

His hand moved lower, slow and deliberate, stopping just above her chest, close enough to burn, not close enough to touch, like he was waiting for permission he already knew she wouldn't give.

Eden's breath caught in her throat. Not because she was afraid.

Because she wasn't.

"Do you want to know what I study most?" His mouth was inches from hers now.

She couldn't speak.

"Power," he breathed. "Who has it. Who gives it away. Who begs for it back."

"Is that what you think I am?" she whispered. "Someone begging?"

He smiled, but it wasn't soft. It was the kind of smile you saw just before you gave in.

"No," he said. "I think you've never once been given the choice."

And then he kissed her.

Not soft. Not sweet.

It was pressure and control and precision. Fingers tangled in her hair, pulling just enough to make her breath hitch. His body pinned hers to the wall, holding her there like a secret.

She moaned into his mouth, heat snapping up her spine. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders like they didn't need permission.

Cassian groaned low in his throat, grinding against her hips. "Tell me to stop."

"Why?"

"So I know you won't."

Her nails dug into his shirt. He caught her bottom lip between his teeth, then moved his mouth to her neck, kissing a line down her skin like a man starved.

Her dress slipped off her shoulder. He didn't stop it.

"I don't even know you," she gasped.

He kissed lower. "You will."

"You're dangerous."

He bit her collarbone. "Say it again."

"Dangerous."

Cassian spun her around fast. One arm wrapped around her front, the other pushed her hips back into his. Her dress rode up, her pulse thundered. His mouth pressed against her ear.

"Keep talking."

"Someone could come in."

"No one will."

"You locked the.."

"I told them not to interrupt."

She froze.

He smiled against her neck.

"Still scared?"

She shook her head.

His hand slid under her dress, dragging the lace of her panties down slowly, like he wanted her to feel every inch.

"You don't even know my middle name," she murmured, voice catching.

"I'll learn it when you scream it."

Her moan was half shock, half arousal. He dropped to his knees behind her, kissed the curve of her ass, then pressed his lips to the inside of her thigh like a prayer.

"I could ruin you," he murmured. "Would you let me?"

"Yes," she breathed.

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, Cassian."

His name in her voice made him groan again. He stood, turned her to face him, and lifted her with one arm. Her legs wrapped around him, instinctively.

He carried her to the table. Laid her back. Spread her thighs with both hands.

Then he paused.

"Still want this?"

Her eyes met his. "More than anything."

His mouth lowered. She arched so hard she nearly cried out. The heat of his tongue, the way he took his time, slow, filthy, possessive, like she belonged to him.

When she shattered, he held her thighs tighter. Kept going. Didn't stop until she was begging.

He moved up her body, dragging his mouth over her skin.

"You taste like sin," he whispered. "I want more."

Then, he stopped.

She blinked. "What...?"

Cassian looked at her, still between her thighs, but no longer touching.

"I want to see what you do when I take everything from you, Eden. One piece at a time."

She swallowed hard. "Why?"

"Because I think you'll thank me for it."

She tried to sit up. He pressed her back down with one palm.

"Let me ruin you, Eden," he said softly. "So you can finally become someone no one can touch."

Before she could speak, he kissed her again. And again. Until her brain went quiet and her body only knew him.

She was still breathless when he helped her stand.

Still shaking when he fixed her dress.

Still drowning when he walked her to the door and unlocked it.

Cassian leaned against the frame as she stepped out.

"Tell me something, Miss Clair," he said, voice low. "If I called you tonight... would you come?"

Eden didn't look back.

But her voice was clear.

"Yes."

The door closed behind her.

And she didn't see the camera in the ceiling behind her, blinking red.

Or the photo on his desk of a little girl in a yellow dress.

A girl with her face.