"You’re being too quiet," Marcus said, his voice dropping an octave. He didn’t look up from the ledger. "It makes me think you’re actually considering the 'Nice' route. We discussed this, El. Nice doesn't pay the lease on this building."

In this version, Chapter 3 is where the "Nice" exterior begins to crack, and the "Naughty" reality starts to leak through. Chapter 3: The Thin White Line The peppermint mocha tasted like betrayal.

Marcus reached out, his hand covering hers. His grip was firm, grounding, and entirely too comfortable.

Elena looked at the file folder sitting between them. It was labeled Project Kringle —a name so wholesome it made her stomach turn. Inside were the routing numbers that shouldn't exist and the signatures she had forged with a shaking hand just three hours ago.

Marcus finally looked up. His eyes, usually bright with a curated, boy-next-door charm, were dark and sharp. This was the version of him the board members never saw—the 'Naughty' hidden beneath the bespoke wool suit.

Elena felt the last of her hesitation dissolve, replaced by a cold, sharp adrenaline. She pulled the folder toward her and clicked her own pen.

"Maybe not," he conceded with a faint, dangerous smirk. "But the villains always have more fun at the after-party."