"Read the file first," Leonie snaps as Enrique's hand closes on her wrist.
He freezes. His thumb presses the soft skin at her pulse, then drifts down like he wants permission to stay. His mouth is dangerously close. His eyes are clearer than the moonlight through the study window.
"Leonie," he says, breath low. "You don't have to—"
"Read the file," she repeats, louder. The command has no softness. It is the voice of a teacher on the first day of class. "Now."
Enrique swallows. He fumbles for the tablet on the low table and taps the Wolff Holdings logo. The screen wakes. A short list of files opens. He scrolls with a slow thumb, as if pausing will let him change his mind.
009: MISSION: CONTRACT MAINTENANCE. OBJECTIVE: ENSURE CEO CONTRACT COMPLETION. TIME: 00:28:12.
Leonie's vision flares with the cold UI overlay that only she can see. The number in the corner is little more than text, but it feels like a timer over his chest. The system does not explain. The system gives orders.
"You look at me and you smirk," Leonie says. "You think that helps the presentation."
He laughs, a sharp, guilty sound. "I'm not smirking. I'm appreciating the view."
"Paperwork first. Appreciate the view later." She keeps her voice clipped. She slides one hand out from under him and reaches for the topmost document.
Enrique's hand tightens around her wrist, then releases. He gives a small, defeated grin. "You were asleep
