Ethan met Captain Hayesâ intense gaze across the expensive desk. He swirled the amber whiskey in his glass, the contrast between the luxury and the man chained before her creating a palpable tension.
"If you donât believe whatâs written in those files," Ethan said, his voice dropping to a smooth, intimate register, "why donât you just let me walk out? Iâm a decent citizen, you know."
Captain Hayes let out a small, dry laughâa sound that barely reached her eyes. She leaned back, crossing one powerful, tailored leg over the other, the movement exposing a sliver of taut skin above her boot.
"I donât doubt your citizenship, Mr. Blake," she replied, her voice cool. "But you were delivered to me until your trial. I donât have the authority to release you, but I certainly have the authority to make your life comfortable, or turn it into the kind of hell that makes men weep for their mothers. Although," she added, a challenging tilt to her head, "it doesnât seem like living in hell bothers you much."
Ethan smiled slowly, letting his eyes linger on the exposed skin for a fraction too long before returning to her eyes.
"Itâs not that I mind, no. After all, Iâm stuck here with a stunning beauty like you, arenât I? Iâd say the situation is actually in my favor."
Hayesâ perfect façade finally cracked, just a little. She took a slow, deliberate sip of her wine.
"I donât recall the last inmate who flirted with me," she said, a hint of something unreadable in her tone. "In fact, I donât recall the last man who tried anything with me, period."
"How strange," Ethan countered, his voice playful. "Being as beautiful as you are, there should be a long queue behind you, shouldnât there?"
She took another, deeper pull of wine, holding his gaze. "As soon as men find out what I do for a living," she said, with a hint of resignation, "they run without looking back."
Ethan focused his EroVision. The floating thought box above her head had changed, confirming his suspicions.
He pressed the point, letting a subtle challenge enter his voice. "Well, I donât appear to be like that, do I? Iâm still here. I havenât run off yet."
"Thatâs only because you canât," she retorted quickly, defending her control. "And itâs not as if you have any other option, is it?"
Ethan leaned forward, resting his forearms on the desk. He raised the glass and finished the Macallan in one gulp. The warmth exploded in his chest.
"That was a big gulp of courage, Mr. Blake," Hayes commented dryly, noting the swift consumption of the expensive liquor.
"I donât know what kind of cowards you usually associate with, but donât compare me to them. Iâm not that weak," Ethan said, his tone turning intimate and predatory.
"Oh, really?" she challenged, leaning forward herself, intrigued despite herself. "Then tell me what makes you so brave."
Ethan looked her dead in the eye, leveraging the notoriety that had just put him in solitary.
"I angered a sitting Congressman so badly that I drove him to destroy his own mansion with a bomb."
Hayesâ eyebrows rose slightly. "Youâre saying the Congressman blew up his own house? That makes no sense, you know."
"I just say he kidnapped a friend of mine, and I went in shooting to drag her out of there. We were about to capture him, but the son of a bitch escaped."
Ethan watched her face, waiting for the true professional to give way to the lonely woman. He had offered her not a plea of innocence, but a story of brutal, masculine action.
Ethan bet everything on the display of aggressive, powerful masculinity appealing to this cold, "iced beauty." He needed to be the opposite of the "men without value" she was disappointed by.
He glanced quickly at the space above her head. The floating thought box had updated.
[Intrigued.]
It was only one word, but it told him everything. He had hit the nail right on the head. This EroVision ability was a marvel; he could truly see what women were thinking. If he only saw her face, he would have assumed she was displeased, even thinking she suspected he was lying, which would have made him rush to apologize. Now, he knew he was safe.
Ethan leaned back slightly, letting the full impact of his confession settle, then began to weave the tale, his voice now lower, rougher, filled with false adrenaline.
"When Vance took my friend, we didnât send a letter or hire lawyers," Ethan said, his hands moving slightly to illustrate the chaos. "We went at night. My people and I opened fire directly on the Congressmanâs escorts. We caught them completely by surprise."
He watched the box: [Very Interested.]
"It wasnât a warning shot," Ethan continued, his eyes darkening as he recalled the actual violence, exaggerating the visual drama. "It was a torrent of blood and fire. The whole place erupted. His security detailâthe professionalsâthey turned tail and fled, leaving him exposed. You canât blame them; no one expected that level of commitment. We were coming in to kill, not negotiate."
Hayes leaned forward slightly, resting her elbows on the desk, the wine glass held loosely between her fingers. Her thoughts flashed:
[Astonished.]
"We had Vance cornered," Ethan emphasized, gesturing with his hand as if closing a trap. "If he hadnât managed to activate that secondary deviceâthe bomb the police foundâhe would have been dead. He traded his own house for his life."
Her expression was still carefully guarded, but the internal thought was undeniable:
[Curious. I want to know how he organizes such an operation.]
Ethan adjusted his flow immediately. She was moving from emotional intrigue to professional curiosityâa dangerous shift.
"That night cost me everything, including the truth," Ethan said, pulling the focus back to himself and his sacrifice. "I let them slap the âterroristâ label on me because if they knew how easily a few men with the right motivation could break Vanceâs security, theyâd panic. Iâm here because Iâm dangerous, Captain. Not because Iâm a good citizen."
He finished his drink, setting the glass down with a slight
clink
. He had successfully maintained her deep interest, navigating the line between action and intimacy. The next move was hers.