The table is set beside the locked window, its pristine white cloth barely shifting under the soft breeze filtering through the cracks.
André rubs at his wrists, light red marks darkening into bruises. His lips curl as he tilts his head toward Red.
"The bruising will appear soon, ma chère." His voice is a low drawl, heavy with amusement. "You shouldn't have been so rough."
Red's glare is immediate. "Oh, forgive me, Your Highness. I forgot I had to be gentle with the man who had a kink for being tied up." Her smile is sweet. Too sweet.
She stands in front of him, wearing one of his sweaters, its soft fabric draping over her previous outfit, covering the sharp, deadly edges beneath.
She looks almost harmless. Almost.
"Now, if you'll excuse us, Your Highness."
André leans back in his chair, watching her with lazy satisfaction. "Of course. I'd love some alone time with this beautiful, beautiful lady."
"And I'd hate it," Red mutters under her breath, already locking the door from the inside this time.
André hums, resting an elbow on the table as she moves behind him, out of sight. His curiosity sparks.
"Playing games now?"
Clack.
André's body tenses for a fraction of a second. He looks down.
His wrist.
Tied.
To the chair.
Red steps back with a satisfied smirk, arms crossed. "Tsk, tsk."
André lets out a breath of laughter. "So cruel," he muses.
"Eat up."
She walks to the couch, throwing herself onto it, her head resting against the armrest as she watches him through half-lidded eyes.
"Leaving me alone?" André asks. "Shouldn't you check my food first? Maybe it's cooked in rat poison."
"Purrfect," Red murmurs.
André lifts a brow. "Did you just... purr at me? "
She shoves her face into the cushion, refusing to answer.
"Come on, eat with me, and I'll tell you something, Red."
Red stiffens.
Slowly, she sits up. "Red?"
"Yeah, that's your name, isn't it? Or maybe it's a secret code name?" He grins, teasing. "I called you rouge earlier... didn't realize you didn't know it means red in French. Guess I'll have to give you a little lesson on colors, huh?" He raises an eyebrow playfully.
Red takes a slow breath, her fingers digging into the fabric of her sleeve.
He wasn't shocked on seeing her face.
He knew her name.
Not the one she threw around in bars or alleyways. The real one. Not real. But close enough. The one that had no right reaching his lips.
Her mind races.
Did he hire her?
Did he plan this from the start?
"Tell me," she demands, voice cold, masking the unease coiling in her stomach.
André just sighs. "Eat first. Then we talk."
Red clenches her jaw. Like hell.
She turns away, making her way toward the small bag she had left by the couch. Her work phone is in there—her only connection to Lincoln. If anyone could fix this, it was him.
The bag is unzipped in a second. Her fingers brush against cold metal, against the familiar weight of her phone. She grabs it, thumb hovering over the screen—
"Calling him won't help."
A hand snatches her wrist.
Red jerks back on instinct, her knife halfway unsheathed, but—
It's gone.
Not just her phone.
Her blade.
Her breath stutters. When—
Then she hears it.
A slow, satisfied exhale. Right behind her.
The air in the room shifts. Heavy. Dangerous.
André stands too close.
Red doesn't turn, doesn't move. She can feel him. Warmth pressing against the space between them, a quiet, teasing dominance laced in his silence.
Her pulse thrums.
"I told you," André murmurs, voice low, edged with amusement. "Calling him won't help."
Red whirls around to strike, but—
Click.
She freezes.
André smiles. Her phone dangles between his fingers.
Her handcuff keys sit in his other palm.
The realization hits like ice.
He undid the cuffs.
He'd been free this whole time.
And she didn't even notice.
A slow smirk curves his lips.
"You're slipping, Red."
Her jaw clenches.
And then—
Clack.
Red stills.
The sensation is unmistakable.
She looks down.
The other cuff.
One wrist on him.
One wrist on her.
She snaps her head up to find André walking back, looking utterly at ease.
"Sorry, my love." He tilts his head backward , watching her reaction. "You're too dangerous for your own good."
Red's fingers twitch.
"You think this is funny?"
"Oh, I think it's fascinating."
Her jaw clenches. She could kill him. She should kill him.
But instead, she sits.
Because if there's one thing she knows…
André had played her in the long game.