Sineka had always prided herself on maintaining her composure.
But this—this was something else entirely.
The moment the maids swept into the room, heads politely bowed and hands laden with silk nightgowns, perfumes, and delicate combs, Sineka had prepared herself to endure their usual routine. Fingers adjusting her gown. Brushes smoothing her hair. The faint, familiar scents of lavender and amber clinging to her skin.
Routine. Predictable. Manageable.
But then—
Crocodile kept stripping.
Not subtly.
Not discreetly.
No.
The bastard did it with the same unbothered confidence he carried into every negotiation, as if the concept of modesty was beneath him.
Bare-chested and utterly unapologetic, he strode toward the walk-in closet with slow, deliberate steps, undoing the buckle of his belt as he walked. Each shift of muscle beneath scarred, sun-bronzed skin seemed designed to draw the eye—and Sineka hated how easily her gaze followed him.
Until—
Her mind caught up with the situation.
If any maid glanced up at the wrong moment—
They'd get a full fucking view of his ass.
Her eye twitched.
Absolutely not.
The man could command a criminal empire, but couldn't be bothered to possess a shred of modesty?
Her mouth opened, the command sharp, unapologetic, and immediate:
"Out."
Every maid froze.
Some blinked. Others stiffened, eyes darting between her and the half-naked warlord who continued toward the closet with the same slow, unhurried pace.
Sineka inhaled, regaining her composure in a heartbeat. Her smile curved slowly into place—calm, composed, and utterly in control.
A queen commanding her court.
"I won't be needing you tonight," she purred, each word laced with deliberate amusement, rich and honey-smooth. She tilted her head, cinnamon hair spilling over one shoulder as her eyes gleamed with something sharp and dangerous. "I'm sure my soon-to-be husband will be more than happy to prepare me."
The sharp inhale of a maid broke the silence.
Followed swiftly by the stifled giggle of another.
Sineka could see the effort it took for them to maintain their composure, the air crackling with unsaid whispers and barely contained amusement. But she didn't look at them.
She looked athim.
And oh—
Crocodilestopped.
Mid-step. Mid-motion. As if someone had just played a move he hadn't expected.
Sineka watched the moment settle over him, slow and deliberate. The faint tilt of his head. The pause in his shoulders. A shift—barely perceptible, but unmistakable.
She had surprised him.
Not just that—she had challenged him.
Anddamn,she had enjoyed it.
The maids practically fled, their hurried footsteps fading down the corridor. The door clicked shut, leaving nothing but the faint echo of whispers beyond the heavy wood.
Silence.
Thick and heavy.
The air between them shifted, crackling with the tension of a game neither of them intended to lose.
Slowly—casually—Sineka shifted her weight, rolling onto her stomach as if she had all the time in the world. The silk sheets pooled beneath her as she stretched out, languid as a cat before a hearth, her bare legs bending at the knees, heels swinging lazily in the air.
Innocent. Girlish. Playful.
But her eyes—
Her eyes gleamed with something else entirely.
Propped on her elbows, she rested her chin atop her hands, watching him from beneath thick lashes with the slow, knowing smile of a woman whoknewshe'd just tilted the scales in her favor.
"Something wrong, dear?" she murmured, voice soft as velvet, heavy with unspoken challenge.
Crocodile's jaw tensed—just for a fraction of a second.
Victory—
And then—
His smirk returned. Slow. Dangerous. Infuriating.
"You think you're clever, don't you?"
Sineka smiled wider, all teeth, all wicked confidence.
"Oh, IknowI am."
And just like that—
The game had shifted.
Crocodile had never been an impulsive man.
Everything he did was calculated. Controlled. Deliberate.
But this woman—this damn woman—
Had a way of tilting the scales before he even realized they had shifted.
He had planned to ignore her little game. Let her squirm first. Make her regret teasing him so boldly in front of the maids—make herwait.
But then—
Then, he turned.
And saw her.
His breath came out slow and measured as his gaze swept over the sight before him.
Sineka.
Draped across his bed like a goddamn offering.
The golden light of the lanterns softened the sharp angles of her form, kissing the curve of her shoulders where the delicate straps of her silk robe had slipped aside. The fabric clung to her in all the right places, thin enough to tease the barest hint of skin beneath its folds. Her thighs—bare, smooth, and wickedly long—stretched lazily over the silk sheets, her legs swinging with slow, absentminded grace.
Like she had all the time in the world.
Like she wasn't the most tempting fucking thing he'd ever seen.
And her eyes—
Dark. Coquettish. Inviting.
She was watching him, waiting, her lips curled into a slow, knowing smile that promised sin with a single glance.
As if she wanted him tobreak.
Fuck.
For the first time in a long, long time—Crocodile almost took the bait.
He could already picture it—the heat of her skin beneath his hands, the soft catch of her breath as he pinned her beneath him, the way that smug little smile would melt into something far more satisfying.
But instead—
Instead, he smiled.
Slowly. Deliberately.
A predator baring his teeth.
Smoke curled from his lips as he exhaled the last remnants of his cigar, the faint amber glow fading as he flicked the stub into the ashtray with a softclick.
Then he moved.
Back toward her.
Toward those damn legs.
And as he walked, his fingers found the waistband of his pants, undoing the button with a slow, deliberate flick.
Not fully.
Not enough to strip them away.
Just enough to loosen the fabric.
Just enough to reveal the sharp, defined lines of his hips—the low dip of muscle that disappeared beneath the waistband with sinful promise.
Sineka's lazy swinging legs stilled.
Her eyes flicked down—
Then back up to his face.
And he saw it.
The hitch in her breath. The faint shift of her fingers against the sheets. The flash of heat she tried—failed—to hide.
Good. Look.
He smirked wider.
She had started this game.
Now?
Now, he was going to finish it.
Without a word, he climbed onto the bed.
The mattress dipped beneath his weight as he braced a knee against the sheets, each movement slow, measured, inevitable.
The air thickened—charged with the unspoken heat of a challenge neither of them would dare break.
Sineka didn't move.
Didn't shift away.
She only tilted her head slightly, cinnamon curls spilling across the pillows as her golden eyes met his, the slow curve of her lips still laced with wicked amusement.
Smug. Confident.
But no longer so sure of her control.
"Not backing down already, are you?" she murmured, voice honey-sweet with mock innocence.
Crocodile chuckled—a low, rough sound that rumbled deep in his chest.
"You're playing with fire, girl."
"Am I?" She tilted her head, her smile sharpening. "Or are you just afraid of getting burned?"
Bold,he thought.
Very bold.
Without warning, he shifted forward, one hand pressing into the sheets beside her waist, the faint brush of his golden hook grazing the mattress near her shoulder. His other hand—warm, calloused, real—slid to her thigh.
Not rough. Not forceful.
Butfirm.
And when she inhaled—sharp and soft—he could see the pulse at her throat flutter faster.
"Careful, Sineka." His voice dropped lower, rough with warning. "You're forgetting who you're playing with."
She held his gaze—steady, unyielding—even as her breath faltered against the heat between them.
"Maybe," she whispered, lips curving faintly. "Or maybe I just know you're afraid of losing."
Silence.
Thick. Taut.
A heartbeat.
Then—
Crocodile leaned in, his breath brushing against her ear as his lips ghosted the barest inch from her skin.
"I don't lose," he growled.
And then—
Without waiting for her next retort—
He kissed her.
Hard.
The moment Crocodile's mouth crashed onto hers, the game was over.
Or maybe—this was the real game.
A slow, consuming war where every breath, every movement, every surrender, and every resistance meant something.
His kiss was not gentle.
It was not careful.
It was possessive—hungry and deliberate—a claim rather than a question.
Sineka's fingers curled into his shoulders, her nails pressing into his skin as if she could steady the heat rising between them. Her legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, pulling him closer until there was nothing but heat and breath and the pulse of her racing heart against his chest.
Crocodile smirked against her lips, tilting her chin up with the sharp edge of his hook. The cool steel grazed her jawline, a wordless reminder of the danger that came with every touch, every glance, every whisper of his breath against her skin. His kiss deepened, drawing out every soft moan and uneven breath as if savoring each one.
And then—he moved to her ear.
His voice, low and sinful, brushed against her skin.
"Let me prepare you, my lady."
Sineka shivered.
The warmth of his breath lingered against her neck as his lips trailed slow, deliberate kisses down the curve of her throat. Each touch was calculated—teasing the line between restraint and surrender. She felt the faint brush of his teeth against her collarbone, just enough to steal the air from her lungs before he pulled back, leaving her skin burning from the absence.
"Shall I undress you, my lady?" he murmured, his fingers already slipping beneath the delicate silk of her robe.
Sineka's breath hitched as his hands moved with unhurried confidence, tracing the curve of her waist, grazing the tops of her thighs before sliding back up to her shoulders. The silk robe shifted beneath his touch, falling loose against her skin as if it, too, had surrendered to him.
"Shall I help you out of these heavy burdens?"
There was nothing heavy about the robe. It was light as air, thin as a whisper—but his words wrapped around her like chains she couldn't break.
And she didn't want to.
The silk slipped from her shoulders, baring golden skin beneath the dim light. Her breath caught as the fabric slid lower, teasing the curve of her breasts before falling away entirely.
Crocodile's gaze dropped—slow, deliberate—as if memorizing every inch of her. His eyes darkened, gold catching faint embers of something raw and dangerous beneath the surface.
Sineka should have felt shy.
She should have covered herself, should have tried to regain control of the moment.
But she didn't.
Instead—she let him look.
Let him devour her with his eyes, let him admire what was his to ruin.
Crocodile exhaled slowly, a faint sound of satisfaction rumbling in his chest as he stepped back—only to return without warning.
Before she could react, his arm slid beneath her knees, his other hand bracing her back as he lifted her effortlessly from the bed.
Sineka gasped, her hands gripping his shoulders, her body instinctively curling into him as her bare skin pressed against the heat of his chest.
"Crocodile—?"
He said nothing.
Didn't acknowledge her startled protest as he carried her through the room, each step measured, unhurried, deliberate. The cool air brushed against her heated skin, the contrast sharp enough to steal her breath.
The bathroom was all marble and luxury, its smooth surfaces gleaming faintly beneath the soft golden light of the overhead chandelier. Steam curled from the freestanding bathtub as water poured from the bronze tap, filling the air with warmth and the faint scent of lavender oil that mixed with the rising heat.
Crocodile approached the tub without hesitation, his grip steady as he lowered her onto the cool marble countertop beside the sink. The smooth surface sent a faint shiver through her skin as she instinctively crossed her legs, her breath uneven as she clung to the last fragments of composure.
Crocodile turned from her without a word, adjusting the water temperature with practiced ease before shutting off the tap. The faint sound of dripping water lingered as steam rose from the surface, curling faintly in the air.
Sineka exhaled slowly, trying to steady the pulse racing beneath her skin.
Until—
Until Crocodile turned back toward her.
Until he started walking toward her.
Slow. Calculated.
Predatory.
Her thighs pressed together, her breath catching slightly as her hands gripped the edge of the countertop. She tried to maintain her composure, tried to keep the power balanced between them—
But she had a sinking feeling she had already lost.
Crocodile stopped directly in front of her, his gaze dropping to the faint rise and fall of her breath, to the way her skin flushed beneath the soft light, to the tension in her muscles as she fought to maintain control.
His smirk widened.
"What's wrong, woman?"
Sineka inhaled sharply, lifting her chin in defiance.
"...I didn't think you'd actually do it."
"You should know better by now."
Before she could respond, his hand slid beneath her knees, parting her legs with slow, deliberate pressure. Her breath hitched as she instinctively pressed her thighs together, but he didn't stop—didn't give her the chance to resist before stepping between her knees, claiming the space as if it had always belonged to him.
Sineka's pulse pounded beneath her skin as her hands braced against his chest, not quite pushing him away—just holding him at arm's length.
"You're enjoying this far too much," she murmured, her voice uneven despite the sharp bite of her words.
Crocodile tilted his head, golden eyes glinting with dark amusement.
"And you're not?"
Sineka's lips parted—only to close again when his hand grazed the inside of her thigh, slow and deliberate. Her breath stilled as heat pooled low in her stomach, her fingers curling against the hard planes of his chest.
Damn him.
Damn him and his control and his calculated touches that stripped away every ounce of composure she had left.
"I didn't ask for this," she managed, though her voice wavered.
Crocodile's smirk returned, sharp as a blade.
"You didn't have to."