POV Victor "She was with me, Mr. Kensington," I said evenly, meeting his sharp, accusing eyes without flinching. My voice didn't waver, my stance didn't shift. "We had a late meeting yesterday, and instead of sending her home in the middle of the night, she stayed in my guest bedroom." The air between us was tight - charged with the heat of his anger. His fists weren't clenched, but every line in his body screamed tension. Mira stood beside me, shoulders drawn in, her bag clutched like a shield she wasn't sure would work. Then, recognition hit him. His features shifted, the hard edge softening like ice melting under direct heat. "Leo," he said, relief replacing the earlier fire in his eyes. "If I knew she was with you, I wouldn't have worried so much. She didn't even call me. Her phone is off." "I was so tired I forgot," Mira mumbled, staring down at the driveway like it had become the most interesting thing in the world. She hugged her bag closer, her movements restless - a silent plea to be done with this interrogation. "I'll see you at work on Monday, Leo ," she added lightly, but the subtle spark in her gaze told me she was teasing. She said Leo's name differently, as if she was tasting it. As if there was something there I wasn't privy to. It twisted something in my stomach. Not irritation, not full-blown jealousy - just... unfamiliar. And I didn't like not knowing what to call it. Her father looked back at me, still holding that polite familiarity in his tone. "I need to discuss something with you when you're free, Leo. Give me a call, yeah?" I nodded automatically, filing it away as something to pass along to my brother. "Of course. I'll get back to you as soon as possible." They turned toward the front door, her father already sliding into that lecture mode that parents use when they think no one else is listening. His voice dropped, firm and steady, and she kept nodding at all the right moments, lips pressed together, silent. It was strange, watching her like that - a grown woman walking beside her father as if she were still in high school. The way her shoulders dipped ever so slightly. The way her pace adjusted to his. The way she accepted the criticism without a word. That was foreign to me. Once my brothers and I turned twenty-one, the coddling stopped dead. No transitional phase. No gentle release into the world. Our father looked us in the eye and said, You're on your own now. Survive, suckers. And that was it. No more safety nets. No more soft landings. I turned away before they disappeared inside and walked to my car. Sliding into the driver's seat, I gripped the wheel for a moment, feeling the hum of the engine once I started it. The sound was grounding, but not enough to shake the unease curling low in my gut. That feeling from earlier? Still there. Persistent. Like a splinter lodged too deep to pull out without bleeding. I'd never felt this before. Not in the game. Not outside of it. And that alone made it dangerous. This wasn't calculated interest. This wasn't idle curiosity. This was personal. And personal had no place in my life. I told myself to analyze it, to put it in a box and label it the way I did with everyone else's motives. But this feeling didn't want to be categorized. It kept shifting every time I thought I'd pinned it down. The streets blurred past as I drove, but my mind was still with her. Still turning over the sound of her voice when she'd said Leo's name. Still remembering the way she'd looked walking into that house, the soft sweep of her hair over her shoulder, the stubborn press of her lips. By the time I reached the end of her street, my hand was already moving - phone in hand before I could stop myself. Don't do it. I never did this. Ever. It was against the rules, against the structure I'd built for myself. Reckless. Unnecessary. But I had to. If I didn't, I was going to drive myself insane. My thumb scrolled to the bottom of my contacts. A place I never went. The names there weren't for everyday use. They were for moments when I wanted to break my own code. This wasn't part of the game. This wasn't part of me. And yet, here I was. I hesitated for a fraction of a second. That was all it took before my thumb hit dial. The line barely rang once before a sultry, low voice answered - smooth, rich, curling into my ear like smoke I couldn't help but breathe in. "Hi, baby."