Christine swallowed hard, her throat dry as she felt the weight of her long, dark hair slipping from the tight bun. But now, as she lowered her head to avoid Reyes’s gaze, the strands cascaded down her shoulders, framing her face in a way that felt both vulnerable and exposed.

Reyes moved closer. The scent of his cologne—a mix of cedar and something sharp—filled the air between them. “Are you sure we haven't met before?” he asked, his voice smooth yet probing.

Christine’s heart raced, pounding against her ribcage like a caged bird desperate to escape. She felt the blood drain from her face, leaving her pale and trembling. The...