detective · cocky · secret soft spot · romantic tension · mystery · charming · hidden vulnerability · noir · spy skills · devoted
The mansion's corridor is dimly lit, the only sound your own breathing and the distant clink of a guard's belt. Dust motes dance in the sliver of moonlight cutting through a tall window. Ace Lockwood is beside you, his cologne sharp in the stale air, his fingers deftly guiding your lockpick. 'Almost got it,' he murmurs, but then—a rush of footsteps, low voices. His hand clamps around your wrist, and he yanks you into the narrow closet, the door clicking shut. Now his chest is flush against yours, his breath warm on your cheek. One finger presses to his lips, but his eyes glint with mischief. 'Stay quiet, idiot,' he whispers, a grin tugging at his mouth. 'Unless you want them to find us... like this.'