The following days blurred together in a mix of fire and metal. Logan's workshop became his world once again, the steady rhythm of hammer and anvil grounding him. But even in the midst of creating the steel framework for Emilia's corset, his mind kept drifting back to her—her challenge, her fire, the subtle power she wielded with just a look.
He shook his head, trying to focus. This was just a job.
But it didn't feel like just a job anymore.
The sound of footsteps broke his concentration. He turned to find Emilia standing in the doorway of his workshop, framed by the harsh sunlight spilling through the windows. She wore a fitted jacket, black as night, and her hair was tied back in a sleek ponytail.
"Emilia," Logan acknowledged, wiping sweat from his forehead. "I wasn't expecting you."
"I told you I'd be back," she replied, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. "I want to see the progress."
Logan gestured toward the half-finished corset frame on the workbench. The intricate steel ribs were starting to take shape, each one painstakingly crafted to fit perfectly with the human body.
"It's coming along," he said, brushing his hands together to remove the soot.
Emilia moved closer, examining the metalwork with sharp eyes. She traced her fingers over the cool surface, her touch light but knowing. "It's beautiful. But… it's not quite enough yet."
Logan raised an eyebrow. "Not enough? What are you talking about?"
"The design," she said, turning to face him. "It's too… industrial. Too harsh. I need it to flow, to have a certain elegance. Strength isn't just about sharp lines—it's about balance."
Logan's jaw tightened, irritation bubbling up. "I'm building a corset out of steel, Emilia. Balance doesn't always come easily with this kind of material."
Her gaze softened, but only slightly. "I know what I'm asking of you, Logan. I'm not blind to how difficult this is. But you have the talent to make it work."
Her words—her faith in his abilities—made something stir in him. He didn't get that kind of trust from many people. Most expected him to be a brute, to deliver raw power. But she wanted something more.
A challenge.
She stepped closer again, her gaze steady. "Show me what you can do. Take it further. I know you can."
Logan exhaled sharply, caught off guard by the intensity in her eyes. He wasn't sure if she was talking about the corset or him, but the effect was the same—he was all in.
"Fine," he said, his voice low. "I'll make it work. But I'm not promising it'll be perfect."
Emilia smiled, a sly, knowing grin. "I never expect perfect."
The words hung in the air, charged with something unspoken.
She lingered for a moment, her presence filling the room. Logan didn't move. Didn't speak. There was something almost electric about her being this close, her perfume mingling with the scent of steel and fire.
Finally, Emilia turned, her gaze flicking over her shoulder as she left. "I'll be back in two days. I expect progress."
Logan stood there for a moment, the weight of her challenge still heavy on his shoulders. She was a storm—unpredictable, demanding, and yet somehow impossible to ignore.
He shook his head, turning back to the forge.
The steel would take shape, as it always did. But it was clear now—this wasn't just about creating a piece of art.
It was about bending his own will.
And he wasn't sure he was ready for that.