Logan wasn't nervous. He didn't get nervous.
Yet, standing outside Emilia Royce's penthouse door, he felt something damn close to it. Maybe it was the fact that this was her personal space, far from the polished professionalism of her studio. Maybe it was because he knew tonight would push their tension to a dangerous edge.
With a sigh, he knocked.
The door swung open, and Emilia stood there in a silk robe, loosely tied around her waist. The sight made Logan's grip tighten on the measuring tape in his hand.
"You're early," she noted, stepping aside to let him in.
"You're underdressed," he countered, eyes flicking to the smooth skin at her collarbone before he forced himself to look away.
She smirked. "I didn't see the point in wearing something complicated just to take it off for measurements."
Logan exhaled sharply. She was playing a game, testing his control. Fine. He could play, too.
The penthouse was everything he expected—sleek, modern, expensive. A massive window overlooked the city, lights glittering in the distance. In the center of the room stood a mannequin draped in unfinished fabric, likely her next project.
"Let's get this over with," he muttered, unrolling his tape.
Emilia stepped in front of him, undoing the belt of her robe. The silk slid open, revealing a fitted bodysuit underneath. Modest enough to keep things professional. Just barely.
"Start with the bust," she said, voice even.
Logan moved behind her, wrapping the tape around her torso. His fingers brushed against her skin, and he felt her breath hitch.
"Breathe normally," he instructed, keeping his voice steady.
She did. But the air between them was anything but normal.
He recorded the measurement, moving to her waist. His hands traced the tape around her curves, slow and precise. The scent of jasmine and something uniquely her filled his senses.
"You're surprisingly gentle," Emilia murmured.
"I work with fire and steel every day," Logan replied. "I know when to use force… and when not to."
Emilia turned her head slightly, just enough to meet his eyes. There was something unreadable in her gaze, something that sent a slow burn through him.
He ignored it. Finished the waist measurement. Moved to her hips.
His hands ghosted over her sides, firm yet careful. His jaw clenched when he felt her shift ever so slightly into his touch.
This was dangerous.
"Done," he said, stepping back abruptly.
Emilia turned, arms crossed, studying him. "You work fast."
"I don't waste time."
"Neither do I." She took the paper from his hand, scanning the numbers. "This will do."
Logan rolled up the tape. "I'll start forging the framework tomorrow."
She nodded, but something in her expression told him she wasn't quite done with him yet. "Stay for a drink."
Logan hesitated. Bad idea. Very bad idea.
But then she walked to the bar, pouring whiskey into two glasses like she already knew his answer. And damn it, she wasn't wrong.
He took the glass she offered, their fingers brushing. A spark. A fleeting moment, but enough to make his pulse hammer.
"To strong foundations," Emilia said, raising her glass.
Logan smirked. "To steel and silk."
They drank, the silence thick with unspoken things.
For the first time in a long time, Logan wasn't sure if he was forging something powerful… or setting himself up to burn.