A camera flash catches Lio mid-laugh, his leather jacket open, collar askew; his eyes flicker irritation beneath the chaos of the after-party lights. Serris, statuesque in a backless midnight-blue slip dress, moves through the crowd with precise detachment—her mouth pulled tight, jaw tense, ignoring the snap of phones and the shouted names. Under her chill, one corner of her lip betrays a wicked smile when she feels Lio’s presence at her back.

He leans in, voice low. “You know they’re only here for the disaster.” His fingertips graze her bare shoulder as if by accident; goosebumps spark along her skin, the tension between them coiling with every breath.

Serris lets herself look at him—takes in the messy hair, the faint shadow of a bruise at his temple, the haunted bravado in his eyes. “And what are you here for?” she answers, softer than she meant to. She watches his mouth, sees the way he almost smirks.

They push through a wall of velvet ropes. Lio shields her from the hungry crowd, broad shoulders a living shield. He moves with the reckless confidence of someone daring the world to try him. Serris, high-strung and luminous, lets herself lean in closer than she should—it’s safer in his gravity, for one stolen minute.

A camera catches them just as he ducks his head, whispering something only she can hear. The heat between them is a living thing, smoldering under the hum of her laughter—unexpected, real, and too rare.

Later, Serris sits on the edge of Lio’s battered leather sofa, moonlight striping her bare arms and collarbones. She peels off her earrings, nervous in a way she can’t remember being. Lio kneels in front of her, tending to a cut on her elbow—a casualty of the crowd, a tender, ordinary violence. His hands are careful, callused thumbs brushing her skin with reverence and hunger both. He doesn’t ask why she came.

“Everyone always wants something,” she murmurs, studying his face—shadowed jaw, intent gaze, the wariness he tries to hide. “What do you want, Lio?”

He studies her. “Something real, maybe. Something that’s not just for show.”

She kisses him. It starts desperate, her hands threading into his hair, pulling him closer. His breath hitches, startled at her need, but he lets her set the pace—lets her take the power and hold it. Their kiss is messy, all teeth and heat, her lipstick smeared on his cheek. His hands slide up her thighs, tremble as they find the curve of her waist beneath silk.

Clothes come off in clumsy increments, tossed aside as Serris presses him back into the cushions, hungry and radiant, her control finally faltering. Lio lets go, surrenders to her urgency. The world narrows to tangled limbs, sharp gasps and soft pleas, every touch a promise neither quite knows how to keep.

After, breathless and glowing, Serris curls against him, her armor in ruins. She laughs, then covers her mouth, unguarded. Lio smiles—genuine this time, not for any camera.

Down the hall, Ryven stalks unseen, camera in hand. He leans into a shadow, jaw set, and lifts the lens just as Serris kisses Lio again—a moment raw and real, framed forever. The shutter’s snap is lost in the hush of midnight, but the damage is done. On his screen, their secrets burn.

Back at the studio, Maeve strides into the chaos—heels clicking, her blazer sharp and pristine, face unreadable even as texts flood her phone: the photo’s gone live. “You two are trending,” she mutters, shoving the phone in Serris’s face while Lio freezes beside her. Serris’s heart slams painfully as she sees herself—half naked, eyes wild, Lio’s hand tangled in her hair.

Lio’s jaw tightens, and Serris feels the air shift; the world presses in too tight. But in Maeve’s eyes, there’s something like pride—she’s seen worse, handled worse, but this? This is love with teeth.

Maeve glances toward the new hire across the room—a too-handsome, wide-eyed influencer named Zian, whose gaze lingers on Serris with a dangerous gleam. Serris notices and shivers.

Somewhere, Ryven uploads the image. Corin watches from afar, jealousy etched into his clenched fists.

Serris looks at Lio, vulnerable and exposed and finally, finally alive. He offers his hand—she takes it.

But in the shadows, Zian’s crush sharpens into obsession, and a storm gathers, just out of sight.

To be continued...