The penthouse lights shimmered low—soft gold tracing the corners of stone and leather like quiet power pretending to be decor.
Lucas dropped his bag by the kitchen counter and loosened his collar with a grunt.
"Julius," he said over his shoulder, "I've got three empty bedrooms, a smart kitchen, AI-controlled blackout shades, and a skyline view that costs more than most stocks. Move in."
Behind him, Julius was already opening a bottle of sparkling water. "No thanks. I want a work-life balance."
Lucas snorted. "You don't even have a life."
"I do. It just doesn't involve waking up to your protein shakes and crisis meetings."
Lucas was already walking toward his bedroom. "Suit yourself. You'll cave by next week."
The shower hissed—steam rising, thoughts washing clean with it. The pressure of royalty, press leaks, and political matchmaking blurred beneath scalding water and hard tile.
Lucas dried off, stepped out, towel slung low on his hips, and froze.
Veronika Pan was seated on his living room couch, legs crossed, one hand resting on a half-empty glass of wine like she'd been born there.
"I told your AI, I wasn't a threat," she said casually, eyes drifting over his chest, "and she agreed."
ATHENA chimed, calm as always:"Veronika Pan: identity verified. Clearance based on family lineage—maternal side, fourth cousin. Probability of social complication: 91%. Threat level: undetermined."
Lucas didn't move. "You just let yourself in?"
She gave a lazy smile. "You left the elevator permissions open. That's an invitation in this city."
He reached for the nearest shirt, pulling it over slowly. "What do you want?"
"To reintroduce myself properly," she said, standing now.
She crossed the room in confident, unhurried steps. Her silk blouse was cut like diplomacy—precise, expensive, and designed to distract. Her heels clicked like punctuation.
"I'm not your enemy, Lucas," she said softly. "Technically, I'm a relative. Barely. And irrelevant in every legal document."
"Still sounds like a threat," he muttered.
"It's a temptation," she corrected. "One without consequence."
Lucas raised an eyebrow.
Veronika stepped into his space, fingertips brushing the hem of his shirt. "No marriage. No legacy. Just a bad decision shared between two adults with history that no one counts."
She leaned in—close enough for perfume and heat.
"I won't pretend to be anything more than what I am," she said. "I'm dangerous. I'm ambitious. And I'm tired of pretending I don't enjoy breaking the rules."
Lucas searched her face.
Veronika's smile didn't falter. "So tell me, prince—do you want to play?"
ATHENA's voice cut through the silence."Moral discretion alert. Would you like me to clear the second bedroom or send her home?"
Lucas didn't answer right away.
He just stood there—half dressed, still damp from the shower, watching Veronika Pan look at him like he was something she'd already decided to consume.
The city lights glimmered behind her through the glass, blurring the lines between night and narrative.
He stepped closer. Not because he had to—but because he wanted to understand just how far she was willing to go.
Veronika didn't flinch.
Instead, she tilted her chin, eyes locked on his. "Still deciding?" she whispered.
Lucas reached out—not for her, but for the wine glass in her hand. Their fingers touched briefly. Electricity. Memory. Something darker than either of them had admitted yet.
He sipped.
Then set the glass on the counter behind her.
"I think you like danger more than sex," he said. "Which makes this less about pleasure and more about power."
Veronika gave a slow smile. "You say that like it's a bad thing."
Lucas leaned in—his mouth inches from hers. "No. I say it like I know how to play the same game."
She didn't blink.
Their bodies almost touched—heat radiating, breath syncing, time compressing into one sharp, held second.
Lucas moved a hand to her hip—not possessive, but firm.
"You want to test me," he said softly, "because you want to know if I'm like my father."
Her gaze flickered, just for a moment.
Lucas didn't move.
"I'm not," he said. "I don't mistake intimacy for leverage."
Veronika inhaled—just a little too sharply.
He leaned in and brushed his lips against her cheek. Not a kiss. Not quite.
Then stepped back.
"You can stay," he said. "Guest room. Wine's in the kitchen. I have an early morning."
She exhaled through her nose—half amused, half annoyed. But she didn't argue.
"You're more dangerous than I thought," she murmured.
Lucas turned, walking toward the hall. "That's why you showed up."
ATHENA chimed, approvingly crisp:"Emotional impulse managed. Boundary established. Psychological dominance maintained."
Lucas didn't smile.
But he didn't regret anything either.
He stood in the doorway a moment longer, watching Veronika track him with a gaze that was half-fox, half-mirror.
"Don't take this the wrong way," he said, voice even, "but I don't need distractions in my bed. I need weapons on my side."
Veronika leaned back against the counter, wine glass in hand once more. "And you think I'm just decoration?"
"I think you're underutilized," Lucas replied. "And bored enough to be dangerous. That's a bad combination unless it's pointed in the right direction."
She tilted her head, studying him. "You want me to spy for you."
"No," Lucas said. "I want you to advise me. From the inside. You've moved through Frances Luo's circles. You've been in rooms I'm just walking into. Sell me something useful—and I'll stop treating you like a wildcard."
She swirled the wine slowly, watching it settle.
"Power doesn't ask," she said after a beat. "It takes."
Lucas stepped forward again, but this time without heat. "Then take this opportunity."
Veronika's lips curled. "You always this convincing with relatives?"
"Only the pretty ones who break into my house and try to seduce me."
She laughed—low and sharp, a sound that knew exactly how close to the edge they'd both walked.
Then her expression sobered.
"Frances is bleeding influence. She's over-leveraged, playing too many hands at once. She's got a second cousin in Macau funneling shell assets through an investment firm called Kairo Nine. One of your board members has been laundering loyalty through that pipeline for months."
Lucas's eyes narrowed. "Names?"
Veronika sipped her wine. "I said useful. I didn't say free."
Lucas gave a dry chuckle.
"You play long," he said.
"I play smart."
He nodded once. "Good. We'll talk again."
She raised her glass slightly in mock salute. "You know where to find me."
ATHENA's voice buzzed calmly in his ear:"Kairo Nine: flagged in previous HanCorp investigation as dormant entity. Correlation: confirmed. Triangulating internal contact… success. Would you like to pursue extraction protocol?"
Lucas didn't hesitate.
"Yeah," he muttered. "Let's see who's been writing checks in shadows."
He paused at the edge of the hallway, fingers drumming lightly on the doorframe.
"ATHENA—send Veronika a gift."
ATHENA responded immediately, smooth as velvet over steel."Parameters?"
"Something expensive enough to flatter her but impersonal enough to remind her this is business. Jewelry, but not romantic. Maybe something vintage. Gold. Sharp."
"Understood. Curating items now. Gift will be delivered with a custom card: 'For the value of honesty. Keep being dangerous.'"
Lucas smirked faintly. "Perfect."
He turned and made his way down the hallway, the tension of the evening still burning faintly under his skin.
The gym lights kicked on automatically as he stepped inside. No music. Just breath, silence, and steel.
He stripped off the shirt, chalked his hands, and approached the weights like he was walking into a negotiation.
Bench. Pull-ups. Rows.
Movement calmed the chaos. Muscle steadied the strategy.
Each rep reminded him that before he was a Han, before he was a potential heir, he was a player who made his own luck.
ATHENA chimed after ten minutes."Heart rate stabilizing. Cortisol reduced. External noise: minimized."
Lucas didn't reply.
He just kept moving.
One more rep. One more edge.