I never thought staying late at the gallery would feel like stepping into a trap I’d want to fall into. The walls gleamed under the dim overhead lights, the sculptures casting long shadows that seemed to lean toward me, almost alive. My heels clicked against the marble floor as I carried the last stack of canvases into the main exhibition room.
“You’re staying late tonight,” a deep voice said behind me. I froze.
I turned to see Ethan leaning against a doorway, arms crossed, dark eyes scanning me like he was already claiming me. Tall, broad-shouldered, exuding a control that made my pulse thrum. He wasn’t smiling—he didn’t need to—but there was a dangerous magnetism to him, like fire that could either warm or burn me.
“I—I just needed to finish—” I started, but he cut me off.
“No. You’r
