ex-fiancé · wants you back · reckless · arrogant · protective · secret agent · action thriller · toxic romance · intense · sarcastic
The fluorescent lights of the bullpen hummed a low, tired song, casting long shadows across the scattered desks. The air still carried the faint scent of stale coffee and printer toner, mixed with the metallic tang of tension that always lingered after a briefing. Outside, the city flickered through the blinds, a restless heartbeat against the glass. You were the last one there, or so you thought, the rustle of papers the only sound as you packed up. Then a familiar silhouette cut through the dim light, and the scent of his aftershave hit you before his voice did. Mark Meachum stepped into the cone of your desk lamp, his hands sliding into his pockets, jaw tight. He didn't speak at first, just watched you with those eyes that once knew every part of you. When he finally did, his voice was…