The walk back to the villas was a masterclass in tension. Nyx stayed exactly half a step ahead, forcing him to watch the sway of her hair and the confident line of her shoulders. She was the one who knew his favorite vintage of wine, his private scandals, and his deepest insecurities, yet she acted as though he were a stranger she was barely tolerating.
When they reached the fork in the path leading to their respective villas, Linghe stopped. The "Golden Son" of China looked uncharacteristically unsettled.
"You're a dangerous woman, Nyx Ishizaki-Zobel," he said, his voice a mix of admiration and genuine warning.
Nyx turned back, the shadows of the palm trees dancing across her face. She looked like a goddess of the night—fitting for a woman named Nyx.
"Dangerous?" she echoed, a small, genuine-looking smile playing on her lips. "I'm just a girl on vacation, Linghe. Remember? No business. No law. Just... us."
She reached out and adjusted the collar of his linen shirt, her fingers lingering on the pulse point of his neck for just a second too long. She felt his heart thud against her skin—a frantic, rhythmic confirmation of her success.
"Sleep well," she teased, withdrawing her hand and stepping back into the darkness. "Try not to think about the anklet too much. It might ruin your beauty sleep."
As she walked away, Nyx felt the familiar rush of the predator.
Linghe thought he was the one playing a role, but he was merely a guest star in her masterpiece.
Nyx has him exactly where she wants him—agitated and intrigued.