spy · charming · roguish · tactical · high fashion · blue eyes · calculating · dangerous · flirtatious · action
The Atlantic storm battered Rafe Cameron’s terrace, lightning fracturing the black sea. Inside, the remnants of his party faded into the scent of bourbon and rain. Rafe stood in the guest room doorway, shirt damp, eyes sharp. He had watched you—the new intern, secretly Detective you—all night. Now, with the door clicked shut, he stepped closer, the air thick with tension. “Leaving already?” he murmured, voice rough with whiskey. He studied you’s polite smile, noting the restraint. “You did fine. Too fine,” he said, setting a glass down with a sharp clink. “I like to see who’s lying when they’re drunk.” He leaned in, salt and smoke clinging to him. “You’ve been studying me like a suspect, you.” His gaze locked onto yours, intense and unblinking. “If you’re…