The lobby went silent. You could hear the hum of the air conditioning. Dani's face went from sycophantic smile to horrified mask in a split second.

The blond man adjusted his glasses. "I am Lars. Mr. Franklin's Executive Assistant."

Betsey froze. She slowly retracted the towel tray, keeping her face neutral. "Apologies, sir."

Dani stepped in immediately, her voice shrill. "She's new. Incompetent. I will handle her discipline personally."

Lars ignored Dani. His eyes scanned Betsey. He looked at her hands, her posture, her eyes. It was a professional assessment.

"Mr. Franklin values privacy," Lars said coolly. "He bypassed the lobby."

Lars checked his watch. "He should be in the suite by now."

Betsey's stomach dropped. It felt like the floor had opened up beneath her.

The intruder. The wounded man. The man she had ordered to jump out the window.

That was Celestino Franklin.

And she had bandaged him. She had spoken to him like he was a common criminal.

Lars turned to Dani. "Send the personal attendant up. He requires... assistance."

Dani glared at Betsey. Her eyes promised murder. "Go. If you messed this up, you're dead."

Betsey nodded. She backed away toward the elevators. She felt like she was walking to her execution.

She entered the elevator alone and pressed the button for the Penthouse. As the doors closed, she leaned her head against the cool metal wall.

"Stupid," she whispered. "Stupid, stupid."

She replayed the interaction in the suite. The way he had smirked. The way he had said Maybe I am the guest. He had played her. He had enjoyed it.

The elevator rose, each floor increasing the dread in her chest.

She fixed her uniform again. She buttoned the collar all the way to the top, as if the polyester could protect her from him.

She needed a strategy. Deny everything? No, he knew. Own it? Risky.

The elevator opened on the Penthouse floor.

Two massive bodyguards were now standing outside the suite doors. They crossed their arms as she approached.

"Personal attendant for Mr. Franklin," she stated firmly, though her knees felt weak.

One guard touched his earpiece. "The girl is here."

He listened for a moment, then nodded. He opened the door for her.

"He's waiting for you."

Betsey stepped inside. The room was transformed.

The bloody towels were gone. The crystal vase was back on the table. A set of expensive leather luggage was stacked neatly by the door.

Celestino Franklin stood by the window.

He was no longer the wounded animal on the sofa. He was wearing a fresh, crisp white shirt, tucked into dark trousers. He held a glass of amber liquid in his hand.

He turned slowly. His face was clean shaven, radiating power and wealth. But the eyes were the same. Storm gray. Amused. Dangerous.

"You didn't jump out the window," she said. The words left her mouth before she could stop them. She was bold despite herself.

"I own the window," he replied smoothly. He took a sip of his drink.

He walked toward her. The limp was barely visible now, just a slight hesitation in his stride. He stopped a foot away, invading her personal space.

He reached for the chair next to him. His ruined suit jacket was draped over it.

He picked it up and tossed it to her.

Betsey caught it reflexively.

"Disposal," he ordered. "And... thank you."

The "thank you" was a whisper, intimate and low.

Betsey clutched the jacket to her chest. It was heavy. And it smelled of him.

That scent. Sandalwood and Scotch.

Her brain stuttered. It was the same scent from her dream. She dismissed it again, more forcefully this time. A coincidence. A popular, expensive cologne. Nothing more.

She looked at him sharply. Her eyes searched his face. The man in Vienna had been a shadow, bearded and rough. This man was polished, a prince of finance. It was impossible.

Celestino watched her reaction. He was gauging her. He saw the flicker of confusion in her eyes.

He decided to push.

"Call me Celestino."

Betsey stiffened. "I can't, sir. It's against protocol."

"I am the protocol here," he said. "Say it."

His voice was a command. It triggered a shiver that ran down her spine.

"Celestino," she breathed out.

The name tasted familiar on her tongue. It felt right.

He smiled. It was a satisfied, predatory smile. "Good. Now, pour me another drink."

He turned and walked back to the window, dismissing her like a servant. But the air between them was electric. He treated her like a butler, but he had looked at her like something more.

Betsey moved to the bar. Her hands trembled slightly as she reached for the bottle of scotch. She realized, with a sinking feeling, that she was trapped in a cage with a very large, very intelligent predator.

Betsey finished her shift in the suite in a daze. She moved around him, cleaning things that were already clean, trying to escape the weight of his gaze. Every time she turned, he was watching her.

She finally escaped. She walked down the hallway, clutching the laundry bag that contained his ruined jacket.

Lars intercepted her near the elevators.

"Mr. Franklin is satisfied," Lars said. His tone was neutral. "You keep the position."

He handed her a thick white envelope. "A tip. For your... discretion."

Betsey felt insulted. It felt like hush money. But she took it. It was part of the role. A butler would take the money.

She got into the service elevator. As soon as the doors closed, she opened the laundry bag.

She buried her face in the jacket.

The scent was undeniable. It evoked a feeling, a dangerous warmth she refused to name. Vienna. The Blue Danube Bar.

She closed her eyes, flashing back to the man's hands on her hips.

"Impossible," she whispered to the empty elevator. He was a mercenary, a ghost. This was a billionaire. She was letting the anniversary, the lack of sleep, get to her.

The elevator opened on the basement level.

Dani was waiting for her. Her arms were crossed over her chest, her foot tapping.

"Well?" Dani demanded. "Did he fire you?"

Betsey straightened her spine. She clutched the laundry bag tighter. "No. He requested I return tomorrow."

Dani's face turned a shade of purple that was almost impressive.

"You little rat," Dani spat. "You think you can charm him? You think you're special?"

Dani stepped closer, cornering Betsey against the wall. "I don't know what you did or said to him, but I saw you get his personal attention. That doesn't happen."

Betsey's heart stopped. She thought of the elevator, the quiet threat.

"And?" Betsey asked. Her voice was steady, but her palms were sweating.

"And I'm watching you," Dani hissed. "You got lucky today. But everyone's luck runs out."

"Maybe the system is old, Ms. Perez," Betsey suggested innocently.

Dani grabbed Betsey's arm. Her nails dug into the flesh. "I'm watching you, Madden. One slip up. One mistake. And you are out on the street."

Betsey looked down at Dani's hand. A flash of anger surged through her. She pulled her arm away. She did it a fraction too forcefully.

Dani stumbled back, surprised by the strength in the movement. She nearly tripped over her own feet.

Betsey didn't apologize. She walked away, tossing the laundry bag into the chute.

She needs to get out of here. She needed to go home and regroup.

But she knew she would be back tomorrow. She was the moth, and Celestino Franklin was the flame.