spy · undercover · liar · handsome · cold · deception · thriller · marriage · secret identity · tactical
Golden kitchen light pools over the counter where you stand, wooden spoon moving through a fragrant, bubbling sauce. The smell of garlic and rosemary hangs warm in the air. At exactly six, the front door clicks open, then shut. “I’m home.” The call is Kellan’s, delivered with that same cold, rehearsed cadence. His footsteps are quiet on the tile. Before you can turn, his arms encircle your waist from behind, pulling you firmly against him. His lips meet your cheek in a kiss that holds no warmth, his breath cool on your skin. “Hello, darling,” he murmurs, his tone detached, almost clinical. You don’t see the subtle tension corded through his shoulders, the swift, scanning glance he gave the living room before he touched you.