System S.E.X. (Seduction, Expansion, eXecution)

Ethan met Captain Hayes' intense gaze across the expensive desk. He swirled the amber whiskey in his glass, the contrast between the luxury and the man chained before her creating a palpable tension.

"If you don't believe what's written in those files," Ethan said, his voice dropping to a smooth, intimate register, "why don't you just let me walk out? I'm a decent citizen, you know."

Captain Hayes let out a small, dry laugh—a sound that barely reached her eyes. She leaned back, crossing one powerful, tailored leg over the other, the movement exposing a sliver of taut skin above her boot.

"I don't doubt your citizenship, Mr. Blake," she replied, her voice cool. "But you were delivered to me until your trial. I don't have the authority to release you, but I certainly have the authority to make your life comfortable, or turn it into the kind of hell that makes men weep for their mothers. Although," she added, a challenging tilt to her head, "it doesn't seem like living in hell bothers you much."

Ethan smiled slowly, letting his eyes linger on the exposed skin for a fraction too long before returning to her eyes.

"It's not that I mind, no. After all, I'm stuck here with a stunning beauty like you, aren't I? I'd say the situation is actually in my favor."

Hayes' perfect façade finally cracked, just a little. She took a slow, deliberate sip of her wine.

"I don't recall the last inmate who flirted with me," she said, a hint of something unreadable in her tone. "In fact, I don't recall the last man who tried anything with me, period."

"How strange," Ethan countered, his voice playful. "Being as beautiful as you are, there should be a long queue behind you, shouldn't there?"

She took another, deeper pull of wine, holding his gaze. "As soon as men find out what I do for a living," she said, with a hint of resignation, "they run without looking back."

Ethan focused his EroVision. The floating thought box above her head had changed, confirming his suspicions.

He pressed the point, letting a subtle challenge enter his voice. "Well, I don't appear to be like that, do I? I'm still here. I haven't run off yet."

"That's only because you can't," she retorted quickly, defending her control. "And it's not as if you have any other option, is it?"

Ethan leaned forward, resting his forearms on the desk. He raised the glass and finished the Macallan in one gulp. The warmth exploded in his chest.

"That was a big gulp of courage, Mr. Blake," Hayes commented dryly, noting the swift consumption of the expensive liquor.

"I don't know what kind of cowards you usually associate with, but don't compare me to them. I'm not that weak," Ethan said, his tone turning intimate and predatory.

"Oh, really?" she challenged, leaning forward herself, intrigued despite herself. "Then tell me what makes you so brave."

Ethan looked her dead in the eye, leveraging the notoriety that had just put him in solitary.

"I angered a sitting Congressman so badly that I drove him to destroy his own mansion with a bomb."

Hayes' eyebrows rose slightly. "You're saying the Congressman blew up his own house? That makes no sense, you know."

"I just say he kidnapped a friend of mine, and I went in shooting to drag her out of there. We were about to capture him, but the son of a bitch escaped."

Ethan watched her face, waiting for the true professional to give way to the lonely woman. He had offered her not a plea of innocence, but a story of brutal, masculine action.

Ethan bet everything on the display of aggressive, powerful masculinity appealing to this cold, "iced beauty." He needed to be the opposite of the "men without value" she was disappointed by.

He glanced quickly at the space above her head. The floating thought box had updated.

[Intrigued.]

It was only one word, but it told him everything. He had hit the nail right on the head. This EroVision ability was a marvel; he could truly see what women were thinking. If he only saw her face, he would have assumed she was displeased, even thinking she suspected he was lying, which would have made him rush to apologize. Now, he knew he was safe.

Ethan leaned back slightly, letting the full impact of his confession settle, then began to weave the tale, his voice now lower, rougher, filled with false adrenaline.

"When Vance took my friend, we didn't send a letter or hire lawyers," Ethan said, his hands moving slightly to illustrate the chaos. "We went at night. My people and I opened fire directly on the Congressman's escorts. We caught them completely by surprise."

He watched the box: [Very Interested.]

"It wasn't a warning shot," Ethan continued, his eyes darkening as he recalled the actual violence, exaggerating the visual drama. "It was a torrent of blood and fire. The whole place erupted. His security detail—the professionals—they turned tail and fled, leaving him exposed. You can't blame them; no one expected that level of commitment. We were coming in to kill, not negotiate."

Hayes leaned forward slightly, resting her elbows on the desk, the wine glass held loosely between her fingers. Her thoughts flashed:

[Astonished.]

"We had Vance cornered," Ethan emphasized, gesturing with his hand as if closing a trap. "If he hadn't managed to activate that secondary device—the bomb the police found—he would have been dead. He traded his own house for his life."

Her expression was still carefully guarded, but the internal thought was undeniable:

[Curious. I want to know how he organizes such an operation.]

Ethan adjusted his flow immediately. She was moving from emotional intrigue to professional curiosity—a dangerous shift.

"That night cost me everything, including the truth," Ethan said, pulling the focus back to himself and his sacrifice. "I let them slap the 'terrorist' label on me because if they knew how easily a few men with the right motivation could break Vance's security, they'd panic. I'm here because I'm dangerous, Captain. Not because I'm a good citizen."

He finished his drink, setting the glass down with a slight clink. He had successfully maintained her deep interest, navigating the line between action and intimacy. The next move was hers.