Ohh, you enjoy watching me suffer, don’t you, Navia? And with good reason—the tension was already in the air…

Now the mission had been a success.
We had recovered the stolen documents, intercepted the illegal transfer, and escaped the event without raising suspicion. Technically, everything had gone perfectly.

Technically.

“…What do you mean there’s only one room left?”

I asked, each word heavy as lead. The hotel receptionist swallowed nervously under my stare.

“I-I’m sorry, mademoiselle… There was a mix-up with the reservation. Someone canceled a room by mistake and… well, it’s high season. Only the main suite is available.”

“And does the suite have two beds?”

Silence.

“Does it… have a sofa?”

“…It’s one large bed. Very comfortable. Uh… for two people.”

I pressed two fingers to my temples. My patience was already thin. And that was before I heard the barely contained laughter behind me.

“What a tragedy,”
Navia said, wearing a far too satisfied smile.
“I suppose we have no choice, mon amour.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“But we’re engaged, remember?”

The room, as expected, was more luxurious than many houses. Crystal chandeliers, an enormous bathtub, velvet-draped windows… and in the middle of it all, the bed. White. Huge. Impeccable. Singular.

“We can take turns—one sleeps on the bed, the other on the floor,”
I suggested, crossing my arms.

Navia set down her bag and stretched as if she were in her own home.

“Oh, Clorinde… don’t be so dramatic. It’s just a bed. I’m not going to eat you.”

“That doesn’t reassure me.”

“Are you scared?”

“No.”

“Then what?”

“I have common sense.”

She laughed, and before I could say anything else, she headed into the bathroom. I took the opportunity to remove my boots, my coat, and sit on the edge of the bed, repeating to myself that this was professional. Only professional.

When Navia came out, wearing a white hotel robe with damp hair falling over her shoulders, my resolve wavered. Her blue eyes sparkled with mischief as she dried her hair with a towel.

“Your turn,”
she said simply. I nodded and rushed into the bathroom as fast as I could. A cold shower helped. A little. Only a little.

When I came out, the room was dim. The bedside lamp was on. Navia was already in bed, lying on her side, the blanket pulled up to her waist, wearing an expression of absolute innocence.

“Don’t just stand there,”
she said, patting the empty side of the bed.
“You’ll catch a cold.”

“I’m not sleeping that close to you.”

“Then you’ll sleep on the edge?”

“Yes.”

“And what if you fall?”

“I’d rather fall than—”

I stopped.
Mistake.

Navia propped herself up slightly, her smile widening.

“Than what?”

“Forget it,”
I muttered, turning over and facing away from her.

Silence settled for a few minutes. I almost thought she’d fallen asleep.

“Clorinde…”

“What?”

“Thanks for letting me hug you if I have a nightmare.”

“…I never said that.”

“You implied it with your silence. And you can’t deny it—we’re engaged.”

I turned my head just enough to see her out of the corner of my eye. She was covering her mouth with the blanket, trying to laugh quietly.

“Go to sleep,”
I said, staring back up at the ceiling.

“Good night, my brave fiancée,”
she whispered softly.

And even though I wanted to ignore her…
a part of me smiled.

Just a little.

Just a tiny bit.