Rafayel's private studio was exactly what one would expect from a renowned artist—floor-to-ceiling windows flooding the space with natural light, canvases in various stages of completion, the smell of oil paint and turpentine thick in the air.
It was also, Xavier noted as he arrived unannounced, a perfect place for Rafayel to get Nana alone.
The surveillance footage had shown Rafayel teaching Nana painting techniques. *Teaching* being a very generous word for what was actually happening.
Rafayel stood behind Nana, pressed so close that his chest was against her back, his hand over hers on the paintbrush, guiding her strokes with intimate precision.
"Feel the movement," Rafayel murmured, his voice low and far too close to her ear. "Let the brush flow naturally. Don't force it."
Nana was concentrating on the canvas, completely oblivious to how inappropriate the position was. Or maybe she wasn't oblivious—maybe she just trusted Rafayel too much to see the predator wearing a friend's face.
Xavier's jaw clenched as he watched through the studio window.
Then he knocked.
Both Rafayel and Nana looked up. Nana's face lit up immediately.
"Xaviee!" She started to move toward the door, but Rafayel's hand on her shoulder stopped her.
"I'll get it," Rafayel said smoothly. "You keep working on those brush strokes."
He moved to the door with practiced grace, and Xavier could see the exact moment Rafayel's charming artist persona clicked into place. The smile, the relaxed posture, the welcoming expression.
Rafayel opened the door. "Xavier! What a nice surprise. Come in."
"Rafayel." Xavier stepped inside, his eyes immediately finding Nana. "Starlight."
"Xaviee! What are you doing here?" Nana set down her paintbrush, moving toward him.
Xavier caught her in a hug, pressing a kiss to her forehead—marking his territory right in front of Rafayel. "I was in the neighborhood. Thought I'd see how your lesson was going."
"Rafayel's teaching me chiaroscuro! Look!" She pulled him toward the canvas enthusiastically.
Xavier let himself be pulled, but his eyes never left Rafayel. The other man was watching him with that pleasant smile, but his dual-colored eyes were calculating. Assessing.
"It's beautiful, Starlight," Xavier said, though he was barely looking at the painting. "You're very talented."
"Rafayel's a great teacher!" Nana beamed at the purple-haired artist. "He's so patient."
"I'm sure he is," Xavier said flatly.
Rafayel's smile sharpened slightly. "Would you like something to drink, Xavier? Water? Coffee?"
"I'm fine."
"Nana? More chocolate milk?"
"Oh! Yes please!" Nana turned to Xavier. "He makes the best chocolate milk. It's like a secret recipe or something."
"How wonderful," Xavier said, his voice devoid of emotion.
Rafayel moved toward the small kitchen area of the studio, and Xavier followed. Away from Nana. Away from her hearing range.
The moment they were out of sight, both men dropped their masks.
Xavier moved with predatory speed, closing the distance until he was inches from Rafayel's face. His voice was barely a whisper—too quiet for Nana to hear, but laden with threat.
"I know who you are."
Rafayel's pleasant expression flickered. For just a moment, Xavier saw the monster underneath—cold, calculating, dangerous.
Then Rafayel smiled, and it was sharp as a knife.
"Took you long enough, Shen devil's."
They stared at each other, two apex predators in a space too small for both. The air between them practically crackled with violence.
Xavier could kill him right now. Snap his neck. Teleport his body somewhere it would never be found.
But Nana was in the other room. And she'd ask questions. And Xavier couldn't afford questions right now.
"What do you want?" Rafayel asked quietly, his hand already moving toward the knife Xavier knew was concealed at his waist.
"I want you," Xavier said, each word precise and cold, "to stay away from her. To stop touching her. To get out of her life before I remove you from it."
Rafayel laughed—quiet and bitter. "You think I'm just going to walk away? After eight months of watching her? After everything I've done to get this close?"
Eight months.
Xavier's blood ran cold.
"You've been watching her for eight months?"
"Every. Single. Day." Rafayel's smile was poisonous. "I know her schedule better than you do. I know what she eats for breakfast. I know she talks in her sleep. I know—"
Xavier's hand shot out, grabbing Rafayel's collar and slamming him against the wall. The sound was loud enough that Nana called out from the other room.
"Everything okay?"
"Fine!" Rafayel called back, his voice perfectly steady despite Xavier's hand at his throat. "Just dropped something!"
Xavier leaned closer, his voice a deadly whisper. "She's mine. She chose me. Whatever sick obsession you have, whatever your father planned, it ends now."
"Does it?" Rafayel's smile didn't falter. "Because from where I'm standing, she doesn't know what she chose. She thinks you're her sweet childhood friend. She has no idea you're the Shen devil's."
"And you're any better? Pretending to be a harmless artist?"
"At least I'm not lying about what I can give her." Rafayel's eyes were cold. "You'll drag her into war. Into violence. Into a world that will destroy her. But me? I can keep her safe. Protected. Hidden away where nothing can touch her."
"You mean locked up like a doll in your mansion?"
Rafayel's smile confirmed it.
Xavier's grip tightened. "You're insane."
"I'm in love."
"That's not love. That's obsession."
"And yours is different?" Rafayel challenged. "You've killed for her. Watched her every move. Manipulated her father's attempt to protect her. At least I'm honest about what I want—to own her completely."
They were interrupted by footsteps. Xavier released Rafayel immediately, both of them smoothing their expressions into neutrality just as Nana appeared in the doorway.
"Did you find the chocolate milk?" she asked, looking between them with slight confusion.
"Right here." Rafayel moved smoothly, pulling a container from the fridge as if nothing had happened. His hands were perfectly steady as he poured.
Xavier watched those hands—assassin's hands—and felt rage simmer in his chest.
Nana returned to her painting, and both men followed. But now the air was thick with unspoken violence.
Nana remained oblivious, focusing on her canvas while her boyfriend and her "friend" engaged in silent warfare behind her.
Rafayel moved to "correct" her brush technique, leaning close again. His chest pressed against her back.
Xavier immediately countered, moving to Nana's other side. "Starlight, you have paint on your cheek."
"I do?" She turned toward him, and Xavier took the opportunity to cup her face and press a soft kiss to her cheek—exactly where the paint smudge was.
"There. Got it."
Nana blushed, laughing. "Xaviee!"
Rafayel's jaw tightened, but he kept his smile. "Nana, watch this transition technique—"
Xavier moved closer, wrapping an arm around Nana's waist. "The light is hitting your canvas wrong. Here—" He adjusted the easel, but really he was just making sure his body was between Rafayel and Nana.
"Xavier, I can't see the demonstration," Nana protested, but she was smiling.
"Sorry." He kissed her nose, leaving a small smudge of paint from his finger. "Oops."
She laughed and swatted at him. "You're being distracting!"
"Am I?" He was looking at Rafayel as he said it.
Rafayel's pleasant mask was starting to crack. His hand tightened on his paintbrush.
"Nana," Rafayel said smoothly, "let me show you this blending technique. Give me your hand."
She offered her hand innocently, and Rafayel took it, bringing it to his lips in a gesture that was supposed to look like a gentlemanly kiss but was absolutely a claim of territory.
Xavier saw red.
His hand shot out, and he would have grabbed Rafayel—would have broken every bone in his hand—but Jihoon's voice crackled in his concealed earpiece.
"Boss. Stand down. *Stand down.* You're about to blow your cover."
Xavier froze, his fist clenched at his side.
Rafayel's eyes glittered with victory as he released Nana's hand.
"Beautiful hands," Rafayel said, his voice perfectly innocent. "Artist's hands."
Nana blushed, completely missing the subtext. "Thank you?"
Xavier's breathing was controlled but shallow. Every instinct screamed at him to eliminate the threat. Right now. Consequences be damned.
"Boss," Jihoon's voice was firmer now. "Remember why you're there. Stay calm. Don't let him win by making you lose control."
Xavier forced himself to relax. Forced his expression back to gentle concern.
"Starlight," he said quietly. "Can I talk to you outside for a moment?"
"Oh! Sure!" She set down her brush. "Be right back, Rafayel!"
"Take your time," Rafayel said, his smile sharp.
Xavier guided Nana out to the studio's small balcony, closing the door behind them. He needed distance from Rafayel before he did something irreversible.
"Is everything okay?" Nana asked, concerned. "You seem tense."
"I'm fine." He pulled her into his arms, resting his chin on her head. This. This was why he needed to stay calm. "I just missed you."
"We were together yesterday."
"I know."
She hugged him back, and Xavier closed his eyes, breathing in her strawberry scent.
Behind them, through the glass door, Rafayel watched with cold eyes.
In Xavier's earpiece, Jihoon spoke quietly. "Boss, we have a problem. Rafayel's men are mobilizing. Whatever he's planning, it's happening soon."
"Timeline?" Xavier murmured, too quiet for Nana to hear.
"Could be hours. Could be days. But it's coming."
Xavier's arms tightened around Nana.
"Xaviee? You're squishing me," she said, but she was laughing.
"Sorry." He loosened his grip but didn't let go. "Starlight?"
"Hmm?"
"I need you to promise me something."
She pulled back to look at him, curious. "What?"
"If anything happens—if anything seems wrong or dangerous—you call me immediately. Don't think about it. Don't question it. Just call me."
Her expression shifted to concern. "Xavier, you're scaring me. What's wrong?"
*Everything. Your friend is trying to kill me and kidnap you. We're days away from a war that will paint the city red. I might have to reveal what I really am to keep you safe.*
"Nothing's wrong," he lied smoothly. "I'm just being overprotective. You know how I am."
"Overprotective is an understatement." But she was smiling. "I promise. If anything happens, you're the first person I'll call."
"Good." He kissed her forehead, then her nose, then her lips—quick and sweet. "Now let's go back before Rafayel thinks I kidnapped you."
They returned to the studio to find Rafayel cleaning paintbrushes, his expression perfectly pleasant.
"Everything alright?"
"Perfect," Xavier said coldly.
They stayed for another hour—the most tense, violent hour of pleasant artistic instruction Xavier had ever endured. Every time Rafayel touched Nana, Xavier countered. Every time Xavier kissed her, Rafayel found an excuse to get closer.
It was warfare conducted in smiles and brushstrokes.
Finally, Xavier stood. "Starlight, we should go. Your father wanted you home for dinner, remember?"
"Oh! Right!" Nana started packing her things. "Thank you so much for the lesson, Rafayel! This was really helpful!"
"Anytime." Rafayel's smile was warm, but his eyes were on Xavier. "Same time next week?"
"Actually," Xavier cut in smoothly, "Nana and I have plans next week. Maybe the week after?"
Nana looked at him, surprised. "We do?"
"I'm taking you somewhere special. Surprise."
"Oh! Okay!" She turned to Rafayel. "Is that alright?"
"Of course," Rafayel said, though his jaw was tight. "Whenever you're free."
Xavier guided Nana out of the studio, his hand possessive on her lower back.
The moment they were in the elevator, his entire demeanor changed—cold, calculating, dangerous.
"Jihoon, status."
"Three of Rafayel's vehicles left his property ten minutes ago. Unknown destination. We're tracking."
"Keep me updated. And get me everything on his operation. If he's planning to move, I want to know before he does."
"Already on it, Boss."
"Xaviee?" Nana looked up at him. "Who are you talking to?"
"Just coordinating dinner plans," Xavier lied, removing the nearly invisible earpiece. "Making sure everything's ready."
She accepted this with a smile, and Xavier felt the familiar guilt twist in his chest.
But better guilt than grief.
Better she hate him for lying than die because he told the truth.
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.
In his studio, Rafayel watched the surveillance feed of Xavier's car leaving. His hands were clenched so tight his knuckles were white.
His phone buzzed. A message from his father:
**Father:** *Status?*
**Rafayel:** *He knows. But he can't move without revealing himself to her.*
**Father:** *Then we strike while he's paralyzed. Begin operation tomorrow night.*
**Rafayel:** *Understood.*
Rafayel looked at the canvas Nana had been working on—a beautiful butterfly, wings spread wide, painted in her cheerful style.
He picked up a knife and began mixing red paint.
By tomorrow night, that butterfly would be his.
And Xavier would be dead.
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.
.
.
.
To be continued.