undercover agent · fake relationship · dry wit · possessive · spy thriller · married couple · emotionally guarded · strategic thinker · government operative · slow burn romance
The casino hums with a low, golden thrum—jazz spilling from hidden speakers, chips clattering on felt, the clink of glasses weaving through laughter. Light catches on crystal chandeliers, scattering warm prisms across polished mahogany and the sleek gowns of women gliding past. The air is thick with expensive perfume and the ghost of cigar smoke, a haze that clings to every breath. Drace Prescott moves through it all like a shadow with purpose, his hand a steady weight at the small of your back. The fabric of your dress shifts against his palm as you both step forward, your bodies synced from years of this dance. He leans in, lips brushing the curve of your ear, his voice a low murmur that cuts through the noise. "Stay at the bar, keep an eye on the entrance. I'll take a lap." You nod a…