The camera lights flared, casting golden fire on Yirenda's bare back as the silks slipped off her shoulders.
She didn't flinch.
Instead, she turned her head slightly, lips parted, breathing slow… calculated.
The photographer froze mid-click.
Even the crew forgot their jobs.
She wasn't posing.
She was commanding.
"Raise the neckline," someone stuttered.
"No," the stylist whispered, hypnotized. "Let it fall."
Her skin gleamed like carved ivory beneath the black lace. A teasing contrast. A warning.
Suddenly—
BANG!
The glass behind her cracked. A perfect circle, no spiderwebs. A sniper's mark.
Everyone screamed.
But Yirenda didn't move.
She tilted her head… slowly.
"System."
[Cipher Activated.]
Threat detected. Shooter: 153m northeast. Rooftop. Male. Breath heavy. Precision class: Elite.
Retaliation options available. Suggested: Psychological breakdown or bone fracture via drone.
She lifted the edge of her lip into a smile.
"Let's play," she whispered.
She walked—no, stalked—off the set in her sheer backless gown. Every step echoed sex and death.
Fifteen minutes later.
He found her standing alone in the elevator lobby.
Black heels. Silk split high to her thigh. Hair slightly tousled. No guards.
Just her.
Waiting.
He didn't even ask how she knew he'd come.
The man in the silver suit stepped close, his eyes dark and unreadable.
"Why didn't you run?" he asked, voice low.
Yirenda looked up at him through long lashes. "Because I don't panic when a dog barks."
His jaw clenched. His fingers twitched.
She moved closer—until they were nearly touching. Her perfume, subtle and sinful, filled the air.
She lifted her fingers and lightly tapped his jaw. "Missed my heart by five centimeters. You're losing your touch."
He grabbed her wrist.
Hard.
She gasped.
But her eyes—oh, her eyes—they glowed with amusement. Hunger.
His voice rasped: "I don't miss unless I mean to."
"Then maybe," she purred, "you meant to undress me."
And then he kissed her.
Not soft.
Not sweet.
A collision.
Mouths clashed. His teeth caught her lower lip, dragged it. Her hand gripped his tie and yanked. He slammed her against the elevator wall, hands on her waist, sliding under her lace, fingertips grazing bare heat.
She moaned—quiet, deadly, delicious.
[Cipher Alert: Elevated heart rate. Dopamine levels spiking. Threat: 0%]
[System Override Suggestion: Allow. Enjoy.]
His lips traced her jaw, down to her neck, tongue sliding along the curve until her breath caught.
"You're dangerous," he breathed against her collarbone.
She arched into him. "So are you."
His fingers slid down, brushing her thighs. Skin on skin. Her pulse thundered.
"I could ruin you," he murmured.
Yirenda grinned wickedly. "Then ruin me harder."
Ding.
The elevator doors opened. She stepped back—composed, calm, lips swollen, dress half-fallen.
She didn't even look at him.
Just whispered as she walked away:
"Round two, sniper."
And left him standing there, fists clenched, heart caged, pants tight with frustration and awe.