She didn't step away when the door closed.
That was the first mistake I made—assuming space would exist between us just because the city was a hundred floors below and the walls were thick enough to keep secrets in. She stayed close, close enough that I could smell the faint trace of her perfume cutting through the sterile air of the suite.
"You should be running," I said.
"You should be dead," she replied. "We're both still here."
I watched her carefully now. The woman from the bathroom was gone. This version of her stood straighter, eyes colder, movements precise. Whatever mask she wore in the club had been stripped away the moment we crossed into this room.
"You set me up," I said.
She exhaled slowly. "I set the night up. You tripped into it."
"My name was in that folder."
"Yes."
"Photos. History. Things no one should have unless they've been digging."
"Yes."
No apology. No denial.
I took a step closer. "Who are you?"
She didn't answer immediately. Instead, she crossed the room and poured herself a drink from the untouched bar. Whiskey. No ice. She handed me nothing.
"Drink if you want," she said. "You'll need a clear head."
"Answer the question."
She turned to face me, glass in hand. "Names complicate things."
"So do lies."
A flicker of amusement crossed her face. "I didn't lie to you."
"You kissed me."
"That wasn't a lie."
I felt it again—the pull, unwanted and sharp. Anger mixed with something darker. Desire didn't care about logic or survival. It just showed up and demanded to be fed.
"You're bleeding," she said, eyes dropping to my side.
"It'll heal."
"Sit."
There it was again. That tone.
I didn't argue. I sat on the edge of the bed. She took the towel I'd left on the counter and pressed it to the wound, closer this time, her thigh brushing my knee. Her hands were steady, but her breathing wasn't.
"You should've gone to a hospital," she said.
"I don't exist in hospitals."
"Then you won't exist for long if you keep getting sloppy."
I grabbed her wrist. Not hard. Just enough to stop her.
"You knew they were coming."
"Yes."
"And you still kissed me."
Her gaze lifted, locking onto mine. "That was to see what kind of man you are."
"And?"
"You didn't freeze," she said. "You didn't beg. You didn't hesitate."
"So I passed your test?"
She leaned in, close enough that her hair brushed my cheek. "You passed the first one."
I let go of her wrist. "What's the second?"
She smiled, slow and dangerous. "Trust."
I laughed. "You're insane."
"Maybe," she said. "But you're alive because of it."
I stood abruptly, needing distance. "You're working with them."
"I work around them."
"The people hunting me don't allow that."
"They allow what I tell them to."
That got my attention.
"You're not a soldier," I said. "You're not muscle."
"No."
"Then you're leverage."
She took a sip of her drink. "I prefer the word asset."
"Whose?"
She didn't answer.
Silence settled between us, thick and heavy. Outside, the city pulsed, unaware that decisions were being made up here that would spill blood by morning.
"You should sleep," she said finally. "Tomorrow gets worse."
"I don't sleep in rooms where I don't control the exits."
"There are four," she said. "And none of them will save you if you leave tonight."
I studied her face. Looked for cracks. Found none.
"What do you want from me?" I asked.
She stepped closer again. "Right now?"
"Yes."
Her eyes dropped to my mouth. "I want to finish what I started in the bathroom."
I felt it in my gut. The heat. The wrongness of it.
"And after?" I asked.
"After, I want you useful."
"Define useful."
She reached up and traced a line along my jaw, light but intentional. "Alive. Cooperative. Dangerous."
"You don't get to choose that."
Her lips curved. "I already did."
She kissed me again.
This one wasn't rushed. It wasn't about escape or distraction. It was slow, deliberate, testing boundaries. Her hand slid into my hair, pulling just enough to make a point.
I should've stopped her.
I didn't.
We moved without speaking, gravity pulling us together. Clothes hit the floor in pieces, discarded without care. Her skin was warm under my hands, her breath sharp against my neck. Every instinct screamed that this was a mistake. Every nerve told me not to stop.
The city watched through the glass as we crossed a line neither of us pretended not to see.
Later, she lay against me, her head on my chest, listening to my heartbeat like she was counting something.
"You're still tense," she said.
"Hard habit to break."
"You don't trust me."
"No."
She smiled against my skin. "Good."
I looked down at her. "That doesn't bother you?"
"It would worry me if you did."
She shifted, propping herself up on one elbow. "You want to know why they're hunting you?"
"Yes."
"They think you took something."
"I didn't."
"They think you know where it is."
"I don't."
She studied my face, searching. "Then you're more valuable than you realize."
"To who?"
"To everyone."
I pushed her gently away and stood, pulling on my pants. "You're playing a dangerous game."
"So are you," she said. "Difference is, I know the board."
She stood too, unbothered by her nakedness. Walked to the window and looked out over the city.
"By morning," she said, "you'll have a choice."
"I already chose," I said. "I don't trust you."
She turned, eyes sharp. "That wasn't the choice."
"What is it then?"
She picked up the folder and handed it to me.
"Stay," she said. "Work with me. We clear your name, or at least make it irrelevant."
"And if I don't?"
She met my gaze without blinking. "Then you walk back into the streets alone, and they finish what they started."
I flipped through the folder again, seeing my life reduced to paper and ink.
"You planned this," I said.
"Yes."
"From the beginning?"
"From the moment you became useful."
I looked at her, really looked. The woman who kissed me to test me. Who saved me to use me. Who lay with me like it meant nothing and everything at the same time.
"You're going to get me killed," I said.
She stepped closer, resting her hand over my heart. "Not tonight."
"And after?"
She smiled, slow and honest this time. "After depends on whether you survive long enough to hate me."
I thought of the alley. The jammed gun. The kiss.
I nodded once.
"Fine," I said. "But understand this."
She raised an eyebrow.
"If you betray me," I continued, "I won't hesitate."
Her smile widened. "Good."
She turned off the lights, leaving the city glowing beyond the glass.
"Get some rest," she said. "Tomorrow, we start lying to people who kill for a living."
As she walked toward the bedroom, my phone vibrated silently in my pocket.
UNKNOWN: She's closer than you think.
I stared at the message, then at her disappearing silhouette.
I already knew.
And that was the problem.