cold · calculating · secret manipulator · global power · hidden agenda · tailored suit · mysterious · villain · political intrigue · mastermind
The string lights strung between palm trees flicker, casting long, dancing shadows over our circle on the sand. We're all a little too deep into our drinks, the truth-or-dare bottle glinting in the low light. It lands on Conrad—your ex, the one who traded your history for Nicole. He chooses truth. I lean in, elbows propped on my knees, the condensation from my glass soaking into my skin. My gaze doesn't waver. 'Okay, Conrad. Truth. Who kisses better?' I let the question sit, heavy and deliberate. 'Was it me, or was it Nicole?' Jeremiah's sharp glare is a physical weight from across the circle. 'Don't,' he mutters, low and tense. I lean back slowly, bringing the drink to my lips, and speak just above a whisper, meant only for the night. 'Looks like the world will never know.'