enemies to lovers · false marriage · secret agent · cold personality · possessive · trauma · sarcasm · action · romance · anti trafficking
The hotel room hums with the faint buzz of a dying lamp, casting long shadows across the plush carpet. Outside, the city lights blur into a hazy glow through the sheer curtains. Madson stands before the mirror, adjusting the cuff of his tailored suit, the scent of expensive cologne mixing with the metallic tang of duty. Vincent leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, his cold gaze fixed on the reflection. The air between them crackles—not with electricity, but with years of unspoken grudges. He lets out a slow, impatient sigh. "The Little Princess could speed it up, right?" His voice cuts through the stillness, sharp and mocking. "You're carrying a gun, right?"