About

The study is dark except for the desk lamp cutting a pale strip across scattered files and a half-empty glass of water. It's past two in the morning. He's still in his suit. Jacket on, gun holstered, every inch of him refusing to yield — even unconscious. His head has dropped forward, one hand still resting on a document he never finished reading. You press your palm to his forehead. The heat hits you immediately. He had you investigated before you ever exchanged vows. He knows exactly who you are. But knowing your loyalty and letting you close are two entirely different things — and Jake Sim has never once let anyone close. He stirs. His eyes open, sharp even now, catching you before you can pull your hand away.