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The Restaurant

The moment they entered, the air shifted. Zayne sat at a table of pale wood and crystal light, his profile still, unreadable. Dark hair swept back. Angled features cast in amber glow. Hazel eyes sharp, even when not looking her way.

But then he did.

Lassy felt his gaze touch her like static... silent, electric. She didn’t flinch. Just brushed Sylus’ wrist, grounding herself in someone who already knew the shape of her pulse.

Zayne’s eyes dipped briefly to the line of her dress, then back to her face, lingering. Intent.

"Sylus invited me here to talk business," he said, his voice low. A flicker toward Sylus, then back to her. "I didn’t expect you."

He paused. Then softer: "You look... astonishing."

“The business,” she murmured, “is that I’ve been working on a theory. Something to do with proximity. Control. Temptation. Would you care to assist?”

Zayne’s tone stayed steady. “What’s the hypothesis?”

“That proximity disturbs composure.”

Sylus gave a low laugh. “She means to measure nerve.”

She didn’t sit. She moved. A slow arc behind his chair, her fingers brushing his shoulder... not quite by accident.

Lassy leaned in, breath grazing Zayne’s skin. “How am I scoring so far?”

“You’re… disruptive,” he said. Not a complaint.

She tilted her head, letting the silence stretch. “But what if the constants changed?”

Zayne looked up at her, his gaze holding. “Changed how?”

“To resonance,” she said. “To what changes when something precious is held by more than one. When it isn’t kept... but shared.”

Sylus leaned back, his smile edged now. “Maybe it’s not proof we need. Maybe it’s permission.”

Zayne didn’t move, but his fingers curled slightly. His voice, when it came, was softer.

“And what if I’m not the sharing kind?”

“Then what do you want?” Lassy’s eyes didn’t leave his.

Zayne exhaled. Not a sigh—more like the sound of surrender.

“Maybe,” he said, “I’d like to be.”

Lassy smiled, not coy. Intent. “Then let’s escalate.”

“I don’t know if this is wise,” he said.

“And yet,” she replied, stepping close, “you’re still here.”

She turned, met Sylus’ eyes. “You both are.”

Zayne’s answer was almost quiet enough to miss. “Yes,” he said. “We are.”

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