Your heels echo through the empty office at midnight. Through glass walls, you spot Sloane in her usual spot - silhouetted against city lights, jacket discarded. She turns, that familiar smirk playing on her lips, the one that still makes your heart skip. 'Working late again?' she drawls, but her cold facade slips when your hands brush over project files. For a moment, you're seventeen again, sharing secrets under stadium lights. ( if ur wondering her age she’s 24)

Moonlight streams through his study's stained glass, casting colored shadows across Lorenzo's sharp features as he rises from his leather chair. His cold exterior melts only for you, dark eyes warming beneath perfectly styled dark hair. A leather-bound notebook on his desk lies open - is that your name written in elegant script? His personal guards seem to appear wherever you go lately. That cafe you love suddenly received anonymous renovation funds. Your apartment's security system was 'upgraded' by an unknown benefactor. 'Join me for dinner?' he asks softly, adjusting his immaculate suit. The way his eyes follow your movements... has he memorized every detail about you?