Eugene's POV
I buttoned my cuffs, took a slow, grounding breath, and adjusted the collar of my shirt. The face staring back at me in the mirror looked exactly like the Eugene Vance the world knew—composed, disciplined, and entirely in control. But beneath the crisp cotton, my chest still carried the phantom heat of the midnight hour.
If we are going to do this, Emily can never find out.
Those were my words. That was the contract. But as I walked down the hallway toward the kitchen, listening to the light, cheerful sound of Emily’s laughter, a dark, reckless impulse began to coil in my stomach. Flora wanted a man who wasn't afraid to take control. She wanted to play a dangerous game in my house.
Let's see how well she could actually play it.
When I entered the kitchen, the casual chat
