Phew! This is probably one of the longest chapters I have ever written so far. This is going to be a filler, but I can assure you all, it definitely won't be boring (I hope). I will just point out there is a very obvious giveaway that there will be more threats than Professor Marmalade and conventional threats such as "anti-animal" terrorists, other criminal gangs and etc. I hope you folks enjoy this one, it was a treat to write it out. I will do some editing of this chapter and earlier ones, so that the story arc is written in better quality.

Enjoy!

It always began with darkness. Not the kind you could escape from by opening your eyes, but the kind that dug deep into your bones, whispering that everything was futile. The voices came first, circling like vultures. He was the kid who dared to dream in a world that thrived on shattering those dreams. School wasn't a place of learning—it was a battlefield, and he was always the one being slaughtered. "You?" they'd laugh, their voices soaked in cruelty. "An FBI agent? You can't even walk a straight line without falling on your face, you worthless sack of shit."

The teachers didn't need to speak; the look in their eyes said it all. You don't belong here. You'll never amount to anything. Their silence was louder than any words—an unspoken rejection. They treated him like a ghost, something beneath their notice. You're already nothing, their expressions screamed. And that's all you'll ever be.

Home wasn't any different. Family gatherings became a twisted game, where every relative took their turn cutting into him with thinly veiled contempt. "Look at him," they'd whisper, casting glances his way. "Chasing after delusions. He should lower his expectations—he's not built for real success." It wasn't just doubt—they took pleasure in his failure. "He'll never make it. Hell, he won't even come close." They saw him as a joke, someone too naive to realize he was setting himself up for failure. "He's better off flipping burgers or pushing paper. The idea of him doing anything that matters? Fucking pathetic."

Then he announced his intention to join the FBI's Hostage Rescue Team, and the scorn became something far darker. "You? HRT?" The laughter was almost cruel. "You wouldn't last an hour. You'd break before they even finished orientation. You think you've got what it takes? You're softer than baby shit."

The real torment began the moment his boots hit the training grounds. The air reeked of sweat, blood, and shattered souls. They called it "Hell Week," but that was a sugar-coated lie. The first scream cut through the dawn like a gunshot. "Get up! You think this is fucking daycare, Lee?! MOVE! Get your ass in gear before I put you in the dirt!" From day one, it was torture. Rucksacks that felt like they were filled with stones dragged him to the ground, his legs trembling with every step. But pain was the least of his problems—weakness here was blood in the water.

Sleep was a distant memory. Every night he collapsed onto the cold, unforgiving ground, his body too broken to move. Just as his eyes closed, the horn would blare, yanking them back into the grinder. And the range? It was hell on repeat. Magazine after magazine, bullet after bullet, until the sound of gunfire was all that existed. His hands were numb, the skin raw, his shoulders screaming from the relentless recoil. "You think this is about pulling a trigger?" the instructor spat, voice like venom in his ear. "You miss, and someone's fucking dead. Someone's blood is on your hands, Lee, and it's because you're too fucking weak to hit a target."

But the worst was hand-to-hand combat. That's where they really tried to break him. Every time he hit the mat, it was like a public execution. Older candidates slammed him down again and again, grinding his face into the dirt until he could barely breathe. "You're a joke," they'd hiss, eyes cold with hatred. "You don't belong here. You're too fucking slow, too soft. You're a waste of space." Every breath was a battle, every step another opportunity for them to tear into him

"You think you're tough?" one instructor growled, voice dripping with contempt. "Look at you. You can't even take a hit without crying like a little bitch. You think you're gonna protect someone? No one in their right mind would trust you. No woman would ever let you guard her life. You're not a protector—you're a fucking disaster waiting to happen. You'll get people killed just by standing in the same room."

The taunts grew more vicious as the weeks went on. "You're not just weak," they'd spit, eyes filled with malice. "You're broken. You're the guy who freezes the moment shit gets real, and someone else has to clean up your mess. You'll be the reason someone dies—because you were too slow, too stupid, too fucking useless."

They didn't stop at physical failure—they went after his pride, his very identity. "What the fuck are you doing here, Lee?" another instructor sneered. "You don't belong in HRT. Go home, tell your family you failed, and take your sorry ass back to whatever desk job you think you can handle. You think you can hang with the real operators? You can't even look me in the eyes without shaking. You're a coward. They'll chew you up out there, and you'll die screaming because you were too scared to pull the fucking trigger."

There were nights when those words sank in, when the pain became too much. Nights when every inch of his body ached so fiercely that he thought he'd collapse and never get up again. Maybe they're right, the voice in his head whispered. Maybe you're not good enough. Maybe you'll never be good enough. But quitting meant going back. Going back to the same faces that were waiting to say I told you so. And that was worse than anything they could throw at him here.

The days blurred together, each one a new hell designed to break him from the inside out. The instructors didn't just want him to fail—they wanted him to shatter. "This is nothing," a senior instructor snarled, voice low and dangerous. "You break now, Lee, and it's over. Out there, they won't just beat you—they'll fucking destroy you. You're already dead—you just don't know it yet."

The combat drills were savage. Every hit wasn't just about winning—it was a statement. "You think you're gonna save anyone?" an instructor roared, grabbing him by the throat and throwing him to the ground. "You're the guy who begs for mercy while everyone else fights. You're the one who watches while the people you're supposed to protect die right in front of you. You're not a hero—you're a fucking liability."

But Marcus didn't break. Each insult, each strike, each attempt to grind him into the dirt only stoked the fire burning inside. He was no longer running from fear—he was running toward something. Every blister, every tear in his muscles, every sleepless night became another brick in the wall of defiance he was building. He pushed, and he pushed, until there was nothing left to break. His body was no longer his own—it was a machine, driven by sheer willpower, every fiber screaming for one more step, one more punch.

Finally, the last day came. The silence was deafening, a stark contrast to the chaos of the past weeks. They stood in formation, broken but standing. A senior HRT instructor approached, face cold and unreadable. This was it—the moment where everything he'd suffered through would either be validated, or he would be sent back, nothing more than the failure they always said he'd be.

The instructor stopped in front of him, eyes drilling into his soul. The weight of the moment hung heavy in the air. Then, a hand fell on his shoulder, the touch heavy with meaning. "Report to the New Operator Training School grounds tomorrow at zero seven hundred," the instructor said, voice flat. No praise, no acknowledgment of the hell he'd endured—just an order. But that order was everything. It meant he had done it.

He was no longer the boy they had laughed at, the young man they had all doubted. He was on his way to becoming a HRT operator, one of the country's finest warriors, forged from hell to protect those who cannot protect themselves.

The world around him shifted. The cold brutality of the training grounds—the sweat, the agony, the unyielding fight to survive—began to dissolve. Slowly, the harsh, visceral memories unraveled, replaced by the warmth enveloping him now. Diane was nestled against his chest, her hand resting gently over his heart, each soft breath rising and falling in perfect rhythm with his. Sunlight streamed through the curtains, casting a golden glow across the room, wrapping them in a peaceful, almost sacred embrace.

The contrast was staggering, almost unreal. He could still hear the echoes of their voices—the taunts, the doubt, the moments they swore he'd never make it. He had been pushed to the brink, the relentless grind of HRT threatening to break him at every turn. But he hadn't just survived—he had risen. From the days when he was told he wasn't good enough, to this: the trusted protector of the Governor of California—and now, her lover.

How far he had come.

Every bruise, every scar, every moment he thought he might shatter under the weight of it all had forged him into the man he was now. And it had all led him here, to this quiet sanctuary, where the only battle left was to hold on to the happiness he had fought so hard to earn.

The stillness of the morning settled around Marcus as he decided to get up, moving carefully to avoid waking Diane. He took a deep breath, the chill of the morning air brushing his skin as he swung his legs off the plush couch, his feet meeting the cold wooden floor. The remnants of the strange dream—part memory, part nightmare—still echoed in his mind, a reminder of the path he had walked to get here. Just as he was about to rise and make coffee for both of them, Diane stirred beside him, her hand tugging gently on his.

He chuckled softly, leaning down to brush his lips against hers. She slowly opened her eyes, a sleepy smile spreading across her face. "Morning, love," she murmured, her voice husky from sleep.

"Morning," he replied, his gaze warm. "You okay after last night?"

Diane let out a soft, contented sigh. "I'm more than okay. Last night was… well, it was awesome."

Marcus grinned and teased, "I aim to please." He gave her hand a gentle squeeze before standing up fully and pulling on his pants. He made his way to the kitchen, ready to fix her breakfast.

After a couple of minutes, Diane slipped on her underwear and got up from the couch. She made her way to the bathroom, closing the door behind her. The sound of Marcus moving around in the kitchen and the scent of coffee brewing filled the air, grounding her in the present. Opening the cabinet, she retrieved a pregnancy test. After doing what was necessary, she sat on the toilet bowl, her heart pounding as she waited for the result.

When the test came back negative, Diane exhaled in relief. She closed her eyes, steadying her nerves. Dating her bodyguard in secret was reckless enough, but getting pregnant by him? That would have been the end of everything she had worked for. It wasn't that she didn't want his kids—no, the thought had crossed her mind more than once—but now wasn't the time. It was way too early, and besides, she didn't even know if it was possible for her to conceive with him. Better to be safe than sorry.

"Stupid," she muttered to herself, running a hand through her hair. "You need to be more careful, Diane."

After cleaning up, she stepped out of the bathroom and headed to the kitchen. Marcus stood at the stove, focused on preparing breakfast. She slipped her arms around him from behind, pressing her cheek against his back. He tensed for a moment in surprise before relaxing into her embrace.

"Hey," he said, glancing over his shoulder with a smile.

"Hey," she replied, hugging him tighter. They stayed like that for a moment, the warmth of their connection filling the room.

"So, what's on the agenda today?" she asked, her voice muffled against his back.

Marcus turned off the stove and turned to face her, his hand reaching up to caress her cheek lovingly. "You've got a couple of meetings lined up and a charity dinner this evening," he informed her.

She groaned playfully, burying her face in his chest. "And here I thought we could have a lazy day."

He chuckled, wrapping his arms around her. "Oh, trust me, I'd love a lazy day too," he teased, pulling her closer. "But duty calls, Governor. Besides, you know I can't resist the chance to spend the day keeping an eye on you." He gave her a playful wink. "And if we're lucky, maybe we'll sneak in a moment or two for ourselves."

Diane smirked, her green eyes flashing with mischief as she looked up at Marcus. "You'd better find those moments, mister," she purred, leaning in a little closer. "Because if you're not careful, I might just sneak off and make my own lazy day."

Marcus raised a brow, his lips quirking into a grin. "Is that a challenge?" he asked, his voice dropping lower as he pulled her flush against him.

"Maybe it is," she teased, her tail brushing lightly against his leg. Without waiting for a response, she closed the distance between them, her lips meeting his in a passionate kiss. Marcus didn't hesitate, his hands tightening around her waist as he deepened the kiss. Their bodies pressed together, and for a moment, the world outside disappeared.

But Marcus, ever the disciplined one, eventually pulled away with a soft chuckle, his breath a little heavier than before. "Careful, if we keep this up, the food's going to get cold."

Diane licked her lips playfully, eyes full of mischief as she whispered, "You know, Marcus, you are my breakfast." Her voice dripped with flirtation, and she winked.

Marcus grinned, unable to resist her charm. "Oh, really?" he murmured before landing a quick slap on her butt. Diane yelped in surprise, her cheeks flushing as she swatted his shoulder in response.

"Marcus!" she giggled, her tail flicking in playful annoyance as she rubbed her sore cheek, though the smile on her face betrayed her amusement.

"Hey, you started it," he said with a chuckle, turning back to plate the food. As he brought the dishes to the table, Diane poured two mugs of coffee, the rich aroma filling the kitchen. They settled into their seats at the dining table, the atmosphere warm and relaxed.

"So," Diane began, a grin playing on her lips. "Did you hear about Karen from the communications office?"

Marcus raised a brow, taking a sip of his coffee. "Can't say I did. What happened?"

"She's been caught sneaking out during her lunch breaks to meet up with a guy from the finance department. It's been the talk of the entire office this week."

Marcus chuckled, shaking his head. "Really? Karen from communications? The one who always acts like she's got it all together?"

"Yep, that's the one," Diane said, biting into her breakfast. "Turns out, she's been seeing him for months. They got caught when she was late returning from one of their 'lunch meetings,' and it sparked a whole investigation into why she was missing."

He leaned back in his chair, smirking. "And I'm guessing they didn't exactly have 'lunch' on the menu during those meetings, huh?"

"Definitely not," Diane replied with a smirk of her own. "And now she's under the microscope. I swear, the office gossip is getting wilder by the day."

Marcus shook his head, chewing thoughtfully before speaking. "It's wild to me how quickly people get caught up in things like that. You've got a whole state to run, and they're worried about Karen sneaking around with a guy from finance."

Diane chuckled, taking a sip of her coffee. "It's like high school all over again. I'm just waiting for someone to start spreading rumors about a love triangle or secret office alliances."

He leaned back in his chair, eyes locked on her. "I'm surprised there haven't been any rumors about us yet."

Diane raised an eyebrow, her smile faltering just a little. "I think they're too scared of me to even speculate about it," she said, half-joking. "Or maybe they just assume I'm too focused on my job for a personal life."

Marcus frowned slightly, his gaze softening. "Is that how they see you? Too focused?"

She shrugged, looking down at her plate for a moment before glancing back up. "Sometimes, yeah. It's not like I've given them much reason to think otherwise. I've spent years building my image—first as a politician, then as the governor. Personal relationships weren't exactly a priority."

He reached across the table, taking her hand gently. "And now?"

Diane looked at him, her eyes softening as she squeezed his hand. "Now, it's different. You're different."

Marcus smiled, his thumb brushing lightly over her knuckles. "You know, you don't have to do everything alone. I mean, you've got me. And I'm not just talking about being your security detail."

Diane's smile deepened, but there was a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. "I know, Marcus. But there's a lot at stake—more than just my career. If people found out about us… it could be a mess. Especially with the way the media loves to twist things."

He nodded, understanding the weight of her words. "We'll be careful. But don't think for a second that you have to keep me at arm's length. I'm here, with you, for whatever you need. Always."

Diane bit her lip, her eyes meeting his with a mixture of gratitude and something else—something more vulnerable. "I just don't want to complicate things for you, Marcus. You've got your career, too."

"My career?" Marcus scoffed lightly. "You think I care about that more than you? I signed up for this, knowing what it would mean. I protect you because I want to. And what we have… it's not just some side thing. You're important to me. Don't think otherwise."

She looked down, her ears twitching slightly, clearly moved by his words. "I've never had anyone… well, someone like you before. It's new territory for me."

He gave her a crooked smile. "Yeah? Me too, honestly. But I think we're navigating it just fine."

Diane let out a small laugh, her grip on his hand tightening. "I guess we are." She took a deep breath, the moment hanging between them. "I'm just… I'm not used to this kind of support, Marcus. It's hard to trust it sometimes."

His smile faded, replaced with seriousness. "You can trust me, Diane. No matter what happens."

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment before Diane broke it with a playful glint in her eyes. "Well, if that's the case, Mr. HRT, I'll let you keep an eye on me during that charity dinner tonight. Make sure I don't run off with some finance guy."

Marcus laughed, squeezing her hand one last time before releasing it. "I'll make sure to keep a close watch. Wouldn't want any more office gossip circulating."

They both finished their breakfast, the weight of their conversation lingering in the air, but the mood had lightened. As they stood up and began clearing the table, Marcus stretched with a satisfied groan, the tension in his shoulders easing.

"Alright, ready to hit the shower?" he asked, a playful glint returning to his eyes as he glanced at her.

Diane rolled her eyes, though a small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "I suppose. Can't have the Governor showing up to meetings looking disheveled."

"Or smelling like coffee and breakfast," Marcus teased.

They made their way to the bathroom, and as they undressed, Marcus couldn't shake the flashes of his past—the relentless training, the voices of doubt, the pain. It gnawed at the edges of his mind, clouding the moment. His jaw tightened as he pulled off his shirt, the memories playing like a broken record.

But before those shadows could take root, Diane stepped in front of him, her eyes locking onto his with a knowing, playful glint. Without saying a word, she took his hand, pulling him gently into the shower. The warmth of the water cascaded over them, steam rising as it surrounded them both. The heat from the water barely compared to the warmth of her body pressed against his, her presence grounding him, pulling him away from the dark corners of his mind.

Diane leaned in close, her breath hot against his ear as she whispered, "Why don't you let me take your mind off things for a while, hmm?"

Marcus's pulse quickened at her words, his body responding before he could even think. The shadows of his past faded completely, eclipsed by the allure of the moment, and as Diane's fingers trailed down his chest, she tugged him even closer.

"Come here," she murmured, her lips brushing his as a mischievous grin spread across her face. "I think you need a distraction."

There was no past. No lingering doubts. Just the intoxicating presence of her—his lover, his equal—and the promise of the moments they were about to share.

After their shower, Diane and Marcus prepared for the day ahead. Diane stood in front of the mirror, blow-drying her fur while Marcus smoothed out the suit he'd worn the night before. His hands pressed down the creases, ensuring he looked as sharp as always.

Feeling playful, Diane decided to subtly match him, slipping into a sleek black pantsuit and her favorite black high heels. She added her usual diamond necklace and oval frame glasses but paused, missing the familiar weight of her Zumpango ring. Wolf still had it. Still, she believed in giving the Bad Guys a chance to redeem themselves. Eh, I'll ask for it back at some point, she thought with a sly smile, or I could just steal it back... The thought of the Crimson Paw flickered in her mind, but she shut it off quickly, focusing instead on tying her tie.

As she finished up, Marcus slipped in behind her, his reflection appearing in the mirror just before he planted a kiss on her cheek. Diane giggled, turning to meet his lips for a more lingering kiss. Once ready, she grabbed her suitcase while Marcus checked his pistol before holstering it securely.

They headed outside, with Diane locking the door behind them. Marcus pressed the fob to the sleek Type R waiting on the driveway, and as expected, he took the briefcase from her and opened the passenger door. Diane slid into the seat with a smile, and Marcus gently shut the door, placing the briefcase in the backseat before slipping into the driver's side.

With the engine roaring to life, Marcus shifted into gear and they pulled out onto the public streets. Diane, the self-proclaimed passenger princess, immediately reached for the radio, her mood light and carefree. A bubbly female radio host greeted them, her voice full of morning cheer.

"Gooood morning, Californians! Hope you're all enjoying this beautiful day! And now, here's a smooth one to get you moving: Camila Cabello's Señorita!"

The soft, sultry notes of the song filled the car, and soon Camila's voice drifted through the speakers:

("I love it when you call me señorita,)
(I wish I could pretend I didn't need ya...")

Diane grinned as she started singing along, her voice light and playful, matching the rhythm of the song as Marcus navigated the streets, shifting through gears smoothly. He glanced over at her, watching her sway to the music, her energy infectious. She caught him watching, her smile growing wider, and his heart swelled. Damn, he thought, I'm one lucky man.

As they continued down the road, Diane would hum a bit louder during the lyrics, shooting him teasing glances as if they were meant just for him:

("You say we're just friends,)
(But friends don't know the way you taste...")

Marcus smirked at her antics but didn't miss a beat behind the wheel. The lightheartedness filled the car, their morning routine becoming a moment of connection and warmth.

Suddenly, Diane's eyes lit up with a thought. "You know what I'm craving right now?" she asked, leaning over with a playful glint in her eyes.

Marcus glanced at her warily. "What's that?"

"Iced caramel macchiato with almond milk," she declared, her voice dripping with anticipation.

Marcus sighed, glancing at the clock. "We're gonna be late for work."

Diane pouted, her eyes going wide and soft in that irresistibly cute way. "Please, Marcus? It'll make the day go by smoother," she pleaded, her voice lilting with playful sweetness.

He groaned, feeling his resolve weaken under her gaze. "Diane…"

"Pretty please?" she begged, drawing out the last syllable with a coy smile, her tail flicking playfully.

Marcus sighed deeply, shaking his head with a grin. "You really don't play fair, do you?"

Diane's eyes sparkled. "Is that a yes?"

"Fine, fine," he muttered, pulling into the nearest Starbucks parking lot. Diane beamed as they stopped, and Marcus parked the car. "I'll get it," he said, getting out and heading inside to place the order.

Diane waited in the car with a satisfied grin, humming along to the radio. A few minutes later, Marcus returned, iced caramel macchiato in hand.

"Yesss!" Diane cheered, taking the drink from him like it was a prized treasure, immediately taking a sip and letting out a happy sigh. "Thank you!" she said, her voice muffled by the straw.

Marcus chuckled, settling back into the driver's seat and starting the car. "You know, if I keep indulging your princess behavior, you're going to get used to it."

Diane smirked, leaning over, her hand sliding up his thigh with a teasing touch. "Well, I am your beautiful princess, aren't I?"

He shot her a sideways glance, his smile softening as his eyes flickered with amusement. "Beautiful? Absolutely. Spoiled? Getting there," he quipped with a grin, the warmth in his voice betraying just how much he enjoyed treating her this way. "But hey, spoiling you is a job I don't mind."

Diane's eyes gleamed with playful satisfaction. "Good, because I fully expect you to keep it up," she said, her tone dripping with flirtation as she gave his leg a gentle squeeze.

Marcus shook his head, the grin never leaving his face as they cruised down the road. "You're trouble, you know that?"

She took another sip of her macchiato, her contented smile unwavering. "Only for you, love."

Moments later, the state building loomed ahead, its imposing structure casting long shadows across the street. Marcus navigated the Type R into the underground lot beneath the building. He parked in his usual spot and switched off the engine.

Diane had already finished her drink. She unbuckled her seatbelt and leaned toward Marcus. He met her halfway, unbuckling his own seatbelt just as their lips met.

"Love you," Diane whispered softly, her voice filled with warmth.

Marcus smiled, his voice low. "Love you more."

They shared a sweet, lingering kiss before slipping back into their professional roles. Diane stepped out of the car as Marcus grabbed her briefcase, walking beside her. As they made their way toward the elevator, they greeted the security on patrol, Diane flashing a charming smile while tossing her cup into the recycling bin. Marcus pressed the button for the elevator, always a step ahead.

Up in Diane's office, Marcus set the briefcase on her desk and resumed his usual position next to her chair, alert but discreet. Diane powered on her computer and quickly dove into her work. Shortly after, Ariana entered, carrying a pile of papers that required Diane's signature. With practiced ease, Diane worked her way through the stack, approving bills, signing off on budget reports, and finalizing various projects.

The tedious rhythm of paperwork set in, and Marcus, noticing Diane's growing restlessness, struck up a casual conversation to keep her engaged. Their banter was light, familiar, and effortlessly laced with a hint of flirtation.

As time wore on, Diane's gaze wandered, and a playful smirk crossed her face. She turned toward Marcus, crossing her legs deliberately, the fabric of her pants stretching just enough to accentuate her legs. Her voice dropped to a sultry tone. "You know, it's hard to focus with you standing there, looking so proper." Her eyes roamed over him. "Makes me wonder how long you can stay that disciplined with me sitting like this."

Marcus shifted, trying to steady his breath, but the heat radiating from her words had already broken his professional facade. He was fighting it—he had to—but the tension between them was thick, electric. His eyes darted to the door, making sure they were alone, before he took a few slow, deliberate steps toward her. His restraint was hanging by a thread, every muscle tensed as he fought the urge to give in.

He leaned over her, his hands gripping the arms of her chair, his breath warm against her fur. "Diane..." His voice was low, strained, like a man on the edge.

Diane, fully aware of the power she held over him, met his gaze with a smirk, her green eyes dark with playful intent. She reached up, her fingers lightly grazing his chest before trailing upward to his tie. With one swift tug, she pulled him down, their lips crashing together with raw intensity.

Marcus's hands tightened on the chair, his control slipping with each passing second. She kissed him deeply, teasingly, her lips soft yet demanding. She wasn't just playing with him—she was challenging him, pushing him to the point of no return.

"You've been standing there, watching me all morning…" Diane whispered against his lips, her breath hot as she tugged on his tie, pulling him closer until barely any space remained between them. "How long do you think you can keep resisting, Marcus? I know you want me."

Her words sent a fire surging through him, his pulse quickening as his restraint shattered completely. He growled softly, his lips claiming hers with renewed hunger, his hands sliding down the arms of the chair to grip her waist, pulling her closer. The taste of her, the feel of her under his touch—it was all consuming.

Diane's lips curled into a smile against his, feeling the last shred of his resolve slip away. She slid her leg up the side of his, her body pressing into his as she whispered, her voice laced with seductive intent, "Face it, Marcus... you never stood a chance."

That was the final push. Any hesitation he had left was gone. Marcus leaned in deeper, his lips claiming hers with a raw, unfiltered passion. His hand moved to her waist, fingers sliding over her curves as the kiss deepened, and for a moment, they were lost in each other, the world outside forgotten.

Just as the heat between them reached its peak, the sound of footsteps approaching echoed down the hallway. They broke apart, both breathing heavily, their eyes locked in a silent acknowledgment of what almost happened. Marcus adjusted his tie with a slow exhale, while Diane smoothed down her suit, her smirk never fading.

"Saved by the bell," she teased, her voice still heavy with lingering desire.

Marcus chuckled softly, stepping back, his eyes still locked on hers as he struggled to regain his composure. His heart was racing, and for a moment, he couldn't hide the lovestruck look on his face. "I love you, Diane," he whispered, the weight of his words hanging between them. It wasn't just lust, it was everything—every look, every moment they'd shared. "You drive me crazy in all the best ways."

Diane smirked, fully aware of the effect she had on him. The playful glint in her eyes said it all—she knew exactly how much control she had over him. Leaning in just a little, her voice dropped to a soft, teasing whisper. "Good. That's exactly how I like it."

Before Marcus could respond, the sound of the door opening shattered the intimate moment. A representative from the board of education stepped inside, holding a thick folder of documents. "Governor Foxington, I wanted to go over the latest proposals for the education reform plan. We've outlined several adjustments to the curriculum and funding that need your review."

Without missing a beat, Diane straightened up, her professional demeanor slipping effortlessly back into place. She gave a nod, her voice calm and composed. "Of course, let's review them. It's important we make sure these proposals are aligned with the state's priorities."

Marcus, his expression back to its usual stoic self, took a step back, letting the moment dissolve into the background. Still, beneath the surface, the tension from their brief exchange lingered, the connection between them simmering quietly, waiting for the next spark.

The clock hits 10:30 a.m., and the office buzzed as a meeting began. Diane stood at the front of the room, exuding confidence as she presented the latest community projects.

"One of the most exciting upcoming initiatives," she began, gesturing to the slide behind her, "is tied to the Gala of Goodness hosted by Professor Marmalade. The funds raised will go directly to charities in desperate need—children's hospitals, schools, orphanages, and environmental groups. The impact could be life-changing, so we need to ensure its success."

Her colleagues nodded in agreement, and Diane moved on to discuss new policies and bill proposals. She spoke about infrastructure upgrades, affordable housing, and community support with clarity and conviction, but every so often, her gaze flickered to the back of the room, where Marcus stood, watching her with quiet admiration. Each time she caught his eye, he'd give her a small, supportive smile or a playful wink, which made her heart skip and added a subtle warmth to her voice.

As Diane spoke about a new housing bill focused on sustainable communities, her passion ignited by Marcus's presence, she felt more confident, her words flowing effortlessly. "The proposal includes not only affordable housing but also job training and mental health support, creating a stronger foundation for future generations."

When a break was called, Diane's female colleagues gathered around her. There was a mix of species: humans and animals, each with their own flair. Claire, a human with bright green eyes and a flair for gossip, was the first to speak up.

"Diane, girl, you've been absolutely glowing lately," Claire teased, arms crossed. "What's the secret? A new routine, or is there something more?"

Diane smiled, brushing her hand casually through her fur. "Just mixing things up, Claire. Can't stay stuck in the same routine forever."

But Jenny, a golden retriever known for her playful nature, raised a brow, smirking. "Uh-huh. That minty perfume is new too. You used to be all about florals. Something's definitely different."

Diane laughed lightly, keeping her composure. "Hey, a girl's allowed to change it up once in a while, right? It's called keeping things fresh."

Amelia, a human with dark curls and a sharp sense of style, chimed in, "Fresh? Or maybe you've got someone new keeping you on your toes?" She leaned in conspiratorially. "Come on, spill. Is it a wolf? Or a husky, perhaps?"

The group giggled, but it was Lily, an elegant snow leopard, who made the real guess. "Or… could it be a human?" She winked. "Human guys have been catching a lot of attention lately."

The animal gals exchanged knowing glances, leaning in closer. Jenny's eyes sparkled with curiosity. "You know, I've heard those rumors too. Humans and animals—quite the trend now, huh? They're… well, let's just say they bring something different to the table."

Lily nodded, her tail flicking playfully. "Different? More like the full package. They're strong, dependable, and from what I've heard, pretty good with their hands." Her voice dripped with amusement. "In more ways than one."

The group erupted into laughter, but Diane's mind had already wandered. The way Marcus held her the night before, how his hands felt against her fur, the strength in his arms that made her feel both safe and cherished—it all came rushing back in a flood of memories. His touch, his warmth, the way he looked at her like she was the only one in the world… she could still feel the electricity between them.

"Diane? Earth to Diane!" Claire's voice snapped her back to reality. She blinked, realizing she'd drifted off, and quickly tried to play it cool.

"Sorry, sorry," Diane laughed, shaking her head. "I was just thinking about work." She waved them off, her cheeks flushing. "Honestly, mixing things up with your style is the best way to keep things interesting."

Jenny wasn't convinced. "Oh, I'm sure it's all about work," she teased, nudging Diane playfully. "But something tells me there's a little more going on behind the scenes."

The conversation flowed into giggles and more teasing, though they eventually shifted to talk of weekend plans and fashion. Diane expertly deflected their questions, but she knew her flushed cheeks had given her away. When the group turned their attention elsewhere, she stole a glance across the room, her eyes finding Marcus.

He stood by the water cooler, chatting with Kevin, a large grizzly bear, and Rick, a quick-talking jackal. Kevin, with his usual booming voice, was recounting the details of last night's hockey game. "The Kings were on fire in the first two periods, but that last-minute power play? Total disaster."

Rick shook his head, his tail flicking. "You missed a good one, Marcus. They blew it right at the end."

Marcus, leaning casually against the wall, shrugged with a small smirk. "Yeah, missed the game. Had something else going on." His eyes briefly flicked to Diane before looking back at the group.

Kevin laughed, clapping Marcus on the back. "Well, next game's tomorrow night. You in?"

"Yeah, I'll be there," Marcus replied, though his mind was far from hockey. His eyes met Diane's across the room, and the brief, smoldering look they shared held more meaning than words ever could. Her gaze lingered, full of heat, daring him to break the professional distance that separated them. Marcus felt his pulse quicken, his body reacting to the unspoken invitation in her eyes.

Diane, biting back a smile, casually brushed the back of her ear, her movements slow and deliberate, filled with quiet seduction. It was as if the room faded away, the tension between them crackling beneath the surface of their professional facade. Every glance, every small gesture echoed the closeness of last night, and the fire between them threatened to burn through their careful restraint.

His fingers twitched, craving her touch again. She knew exactly what she was doing, leaving him wanting more, and from the way her eyes glinted with playful intent, she wasn't done yet.

Diane's lips curved into a knowing smile before she looked away, leaving Marcus with the heat of her gaze simmering just beneath his skin as the hum of the office resumed around them.

After a long day at the office, Diane and Marcus prepared for the evening's charity dinner back at her place. Diane slipped into an exquisite black, one-shoulder, sleeveless cocktail dress that hugged her figure perfectly. She paired it with elegant black high heels, the diamonds on her bracelet catching the low light of the room. As she fastened the bracelet, she glanced over at Marcus, who was meticulously checking his two pistols, ensuring they were properly loaded and ready. He slipped them into his suspender holsters before putting on his sharp black suit jacket.

Diane couldn't help but admire his efficient routine. With a playful smile, she teased him, "You know, you could wear the same suit every night, and it wouldn't matter. You'd still look hot."

Marcus, focused as ever, allowed a small smirk to cross his face as he approached her. "Well, it helps to look sharp when I'm with someone who makes me look good," he replied, his tone flirtatious but steady. He carefully clasped her diamond necklace around her neck, his fingers brushing her skin ever so lightly. Diane took a breath, feeling the subtle warmth of the moment.

As she adjusted the necklace, she explained, "Tonight, you'll see some of California's elite—tycoons, ambassadors, and a few celebrities. These kinds of events are always interesting."

Marcus, brushing out a few stray fur hairs from her shoulder, nodded before checking his phone. His expression turned serious for a moment as he typed out a message to their small security team, ensuring they knew their roles for the night. "Everyone's in place. They'll hang back, but they're ready if we need them," he said quietly, slipping his phone into his jacket pocket.

The two headed out, climbing into Marcus' sleek Type R. After about a twenty-minute drive, they arrived at the upscale Italian restaurant, La Rosa Nera, nestled within an urban shopping area known for attracting high-end clientele. As always, Marcus exited the car first and helped Diane out, locking the vehicle with a quick motion. A few bystanders passing by waved enthusiastically at Diane, who smiled and waved back, while Marcus cast his usual protective glance, his smoldering presence ensuring no one got too close.

Inside the restaurant, the atmosphere shifted to a mix of opulence and exclusivity. The hostess at the reception desk instantly recognized Diane, offering her a respectful nod before motioning them to follow. She led them to a private room, where a gathering of California's most powerful figures awaited. Ambassadors, celebrities, and wealthy tycoons filled the space, each mingling with drinks in hand.

Diane greeted many with her trademark charm, while Marcus stayed vigilant, scanning the room for anything out of place. It wasn't until Diane was introduced to Rex Silvermane, a towering German Shepherd in a finely tailored suit, that the air seemed to shift. Rex greeted her with a firm handshake, his grip strong but calculated.

"I've been following your work, Governor Foxington," Rex said, his deep voice carrying an edge of something more.

"I must say, I truly admire what you're doing for the state of California. Perhaps we could explore some business opportunities together—I'm sure you'll find them quite beneficial."

Maintaining her composed smile, Diane tilted her head slightly. "I appreciate the compliment, Mr. Silvermane. Business opportunities, you say?" Her tone was polite, with a subtle edge of curiosity. "I receive quite a few offers, so you'll have to be more specific."

Rex's lips curled into a calculated smile. "Oh, I think you'll find this particular venture… different."

The group gradually took their seats, the clink of silverware and quiet conversation filling the upscale private dining room. Diane found herself seated next to Rex, her posture as poised as ever. Across the room, Marcus kept a vigilant watch, his sharp eyes sweeping over the table. As Rex busied himself with pleasantries, Marcus moved into position, slipping into Rex's blind spot, close enough to Diane to intervene if necessary. He knew the type of man Rex was—the kind who played dangerous games behind polite facades.

The evening began innocuously enough. Over plates of delicately prepared ravioli and fresh salad, the conversation flowed with a practiced elegance. Diane was in her element, engaging effortlessly with the various high-profile guests.

"Your administration's focus on sustainable infrastructure is refreshing," remarked one ambassador seated across from her. "California has always been a leader in green initiatives."

Diane smiled warmly, lifting her glass of wine. "We've been fortunate to push the envelope on green energy, yes. The goal is not just environmental sustainability but making sure our communities can thrive with economic opportunities as well."

A famous actress, known for her advocacy on climate change, chimed in from a few seats down. "I read about your clean energy initiative, Governor. Is it true you're looking to provide tax breaks for companies that transition to renewable energy sources?"

"That's the idea," Diane replied, her passion evident. "The private sector has the potential to move quickly on these issues if the right incentives are in place. We're working to make the financial benefits impossible to ignore. Jobs and sustainability need to go hand in hand."

The conversation was lively, with guests bouncing between topics from environmental reform to social policy. Diane handled each with grace, her answers confident and thoughtful. As the next course—succulent steaks and roasted vegetables—was served, the tone of the evening remained light, with laughter occasionally punctuating the conversation.

But all the while, Marcus kept his focus on Rex, who had grown quieter. Rex sat back in his chair, watching Diane with an unnerving intensity. He wasn't here for policy discussions, and Marcus could sense it. Rex's calm demeanor was nothing more than a front for whatever scheme he was preparing to unveil.

As the other guests turned to engage one another in more casual discussions, Rex saw his opening. He leaned slightly toward Diane, his voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper.

"Governor Foxington," he began smoothly, "what you're doing here is admirable, truly. But I don't think you're fully grasping the potential you hold."

Diane, already feeling a subtle shift in the conversation, kept her tone polite but wary. "I'm always open to hearing new ideas. What exactly are you proposing, Mr. Silvermane?"

Rex's smile widened, the predator lurking just beneath the surface. "I'm talking about real transformation. California could be a beacon of wealth, luxury, and power. The areas you've been focused on—those struggling neighborhoods—they could be turned into prime real estate. High-end developments, private ventures, luxury living. We'd bring in billions, create thousands of jobs, and reshape the state."

Diane's expression didn't falter, though she felt a cold unease creep up her spine. She had heard proposals like this before, wrapped in the same promises of economic growth while sacrificing the very communities she aimed to protect.

"And the families living in these areas?" Diane asked, her voice sharp despite her calm exterior.

Rex waved a dismissive hand. "They'd be relocated, naturally. It's progress, Governor. Sometimes sacrifices have to be made for the greater good. The people will adjust, and you'll go down as the leader who brought California to its peak."

Diane's gaze hardened, her smile fading. "Displacing families for profit isn't the kind of legacy I'm interested in."

But Rex wasn't deterred. In fact, he leaned in even closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "Oh, but that's where you're thinking too small, Diane. You could be more than just a governor. You could have it all. And I don't just mean political power. Someone like you—beautiful, intelligent, powerful—you deserve more than bureaucratic battles and red tape."

Rex's fingers lingered on her arm for a moment too long, the unspoken intention clear. 'We could have a… personal arrangement, Diane. I could make things easier for you.'

The weight of his words settled over her, and Diane's discomfort twisted into disgust. His entitlement was suffocating—he didn't see her as a governor or a leader. He saw her as a prize, something to control, something he thought he could own.

Her voice was ice when she spoke. "I'm not interested in any 'arrangements,' Mr. Silvermane. If you think you can sway me with promises of luxury and personal gain, you've severely misjudged who I am."

But Rex's smile only deepened, His fingers hovered too close, a thinly veiled threat hidden behind his smile. "You might want to reconsider. It would be a shame if things got… difficult for you. I have friends, Governor. Powerful ones. A woman in your position needs to think about her future. And her safety."

Rex's hand drifted lower, his fingers brushing dangerously close. He leaned in, his breath thick with arrogance, invading her space entirely. Diane's stomach churned, but she refused to show her discomfort. Her face remained stoic, and though she felt the vile invasion of her space, she maintained her composure. She knew exactly what men like Rex wanted—to push, to pressure, to make her feel small.

But Diane Foxington was anything but small.

"I'll say this once, Mr. Silvermane," Diane's voice remained steady, calm, cutting through his sleaze. "I'm not interested in your business, or anything else you think you're offering. I won't be manipulated, and I won't be used."

Rex chuckled under his breath, his hand lingering a moment too long before he withdrew it, only to rest it on the back of Diane's chair, far too close to her neck. "You misunderstand me, Governor," he said smoothly, his tone dripping with false charm. "This isn't manipulation, it's power. You've got potential, and with a little trust—and something more—we could unlock it"

Diane's expression didn't waver, but internally, her skin crawled. "I don't need your kind of help, Rex," she said coldly. "My success doesn't depend on compromising who I am. And I certainly won't be... doing anything with you. This conversation is over."

"Oh, come on now," Rex leaned closer, his voice dripping with sleaze. "You're too beautiful, too smart, too… powerful to waste time playing nice. Why don't we talk about this privately? Away from prying eyes. I promise, you won't regret it."

For a moment, Diane's mask cracked, a flicker of revulsion darting across her face before she steeled herself again.

Enough was enough.

Before Rex could react, Marcus's hand shot out, clamping down on his arm with deliberate force. In one swift move, he yanked Rex back, sending him stumbling as Marcus stepped between them, his presence crackling with danger.

The once lively chatter of the dinner party fell into dead silence.

Marcus's eyes blazed with a dangerous fury, his voice low, cold, and dripping with barely restrained violence. "Touch her again, and I swear, it'll be the last thing you ever do."

The words, though quiet, carried a lethal weight that no one in the room could ignore. Marcus's hand hovered near his jacket, inches from his pistol, the implication unmistakable.

Rex, sprawled on the floor, looked momentarily shocked. His eyes flicked up to Marcus, then to Diane, who remained seated, her expression as sharp as ever. Slowly, he pulled himself back up, brushing off his suit with a sneer.

"Who are you supposed to be, her lapdog?" Rex sneered, his eyes narrowing at Marcus with visible contempt. "She doesn't need your protection. You're just disposable to her—she'll toss you aside once you've served your purpose."

Marcus didn't flinch. He took a step forward, towering over Rex, his voice as cold as ice. "Better to be her lapdog than a filthy pig in a suit, hiding behind his money and sleaze." He leaned in closer, lowering his voice to a menacing growl. "You think you can scare her into submission? You don't even know who you're dealing with."

Rex's eyes blazed with fury, but Marcus didn't move, his expression as cold as stone. They were two predators locked in a silent, deadly standoff.

"Careful, Rex" Marcus hissed, his voice low and lethal. "Next time you pull a stunt like that, it won't just end with a shove. I'll put you in the ground myself—no one will even bother to look for you."

Rex's confidence faltered under Marcus's stare. He managed a scoff, straightening his jacket with a bitter smile. "This is far from over, Foxington," Rex spat, shifting his sneer from Marcus to Diane. "Sooner or later, you'll realize I always get what I want." He paused, his voice dropping to a sneer. "And when you finally understand that, don't expect your little guard dog to save you."

Without waiting for a response, Rex stormed out, his footsteps heavy with fury as the door slammed shut behind him.

The room remained still, as all eyes flicked between Diane and Marcus, unsure of how to react. Silence lingered for a moment before Marcus, still on edge, turned to Diane. His gaze softened, concern replacing the fury that had just poured through him. He took a slow step toward her, his eyes scanning her face, checking for any signs of distress.

"Diane," Marcus said quietly, his voice low but steady. He knelt slightly, making sure she was truly okay. "Are you alright?"

Diane's breath steadied, the tightness in her chest easing as she met his gaze. Her usual composure returned, but for just a second, the tension of the moment flickered in her eyes. She gave a small nod, her voice quiet but filled with gratitude. "I'm fine, Marcus. Thanks to you."

Marcus studied her carefully, his gaze checking for any sign of distress. Satisfied, his hard edge softened slightly, though his vigilance never faltered. With a subtle, reassuring smile, he leaned in just slightly and murmured, "You know I won't let anything happen to you."

His words were simple, but the warmth behind them was undeniable—quiet, steady, and meant just for her. Diane offered him a faint smile in return, her tension easing. "I know," she replied, her voice carrying the same unspoken understanding.

Marcus gave the room a quick, sweeping glance, his protective instincts still heightened. He turned to Diane, his voice low but decisive. "We should leave."

Diane nodded, her composure fully restored. She stood gracefully, ready to make their exit without further attention. Marcus addressed the guests in a professional, clear tone. "Thank you all for the evening, but Governor Foxington has had a long day. We'll be heading out."

The guests, still somewhat stunned from the earlier confrontation, murmured polite acknowledgments. Diane gave a measured smile. "It was a pleasure. We'll continue these discussions another time."

A few nods and murmured goodbyes followed, but the room had already shifted its focus back to whispers and sideways glances. Marcus placed a steady hand near the small of her back, guiding her smoothly toward the exit. Without another word, they slipped from the room, leaving the tension in their wake.

Once outside, they quickly made their way to the car. Marcus opened the door for Diane, and she slid into the passenger seat without a word. Marcus followed suit, starting the engine, and within moments, they were gone, the night behind them. The dinner was officially over.

Marcus drove away from the restaurant, his knuckles tightening on the wheel. He couldn't hold back any longer. "The way Rex touched you…" His voice was low, simmering with controlled anger. "It pissed me off, Diane. He crossed every line."

Diane shivered at the thought, her skin crawling with the memory. "I knew from the moment he started talking that he was up to no good. But I wasn't about to play along with his games."

Marcus let out a slow, frustrated exhale. "I swear, I almost shot him right there."

Diane laughed softly, her voice teasing yet warm. "As much as I'd love to see you handle Rex, putting a bullet in him would've created more headaches. Besides, who's going to keep me in line if you're behind bars?"

Marcus didn't hesitate. "You think I'd let anything pull me away from you? Not a chance." His voice was firm, almost stubborn, as he glanced her way. His eyes locked with hers for a brief moment before he turned back to the road, his grip on the wheel steady. "I'm not going anywhere, no matter what."

Diane smiled, leaning in to plant a soft kiss on his cheek. "Good. Because you're staying right here, by my side. Governor's orders."

Marcus chuckled, his grip on the wheel easing as he intertwined his fingers with hers. "Wouldn't have it any other way," he said, giving her hand a gentle squeeze as they continued down the road.

For a few moments, they drove in comfortable silence, the tension from earlier fading away. Then Marcus glanced over at her, a playful grin forming. "How about we grab some boba? End the night on a sweeter note?"

Diane's eyes lit up instantly. "You know me too well," she said, excitement creeping into her voice. "Yes, please!"

Marcus took a quick detour, pulling into a strip mall where a familiar Chatime stood. Diane gave him her order—a classic brown sugar pearl milk tea. With a mock salute, Marcus hopped out to place the order and came back a few minutes later, handing her the drink with a smirk.

He parked in a discreet, quiet corner of the lot, away from the crowd. As they sipped their drinks, Marcus shot Diane a glance, his eyebrow raised. "So… how's the rehab project with the Bad Guys coming along? Any actual improvement?"

Diane laughed lightly. "Well... 'improvement' might be a stretch. Shark tried to swallow Snake after they fought over a push-pop, Piranha couldn't help Wolf—who was dressed as a grandma—cross the road, which led to Wolf getting hit by a truck. Oh, and they spooked a kitten during a rescue attempt. The poor thing scratched Wolf and then climbed back up the tree."

Marcus nearly spit out his drink. "That's what you call progress?"

Diane grinned. "They're trying! That's more than they used to do."

"Trying and failing miserably," Marcus muttered, shaking his head. "I'm still not convinced, but for you, I'll give them the benefit of the doubt."

Diane smiled warmly at his willingness, even if it was reluctant. "That's all I ask."

They sat quietly for a while, sipping their drinks, the soft hum of the night settling around them. The earlier tension had melted away, leaving only the warmth of each other's company.

After their little boba date, it was time for Marcus to take Diane back home. The quiet drive was a soothing contrast to the night's earlier events, and soon, they arrived at Diane's house. Marcus parked the Type R along the curb, shifting the stick into neutral and pulling the handbrake. As he turned off the engine, Diane reached over, grabbing his hand and rubbing it lovingly. Neither of them wanted the night to end.

Their eyes met, and a knowing smile passed between them. Marcus slipped out of the car first and, as always, moved around to help Diane out. She took his hand, stepping onto the curb, and they walked together toward her front door.

Once they reached the door, Diane sighed softly as she rummaged through her purse for her keys. But before she could find them, Marcus spoke her name, his voice low and deliberate. "Diane."

Diane paused, spinning around to face him. "What's up?" she asked, the curiosity in her eyes quickly replaced by surprise as Marcus pinned her gently but firmly against the door. Her cheeks flushed as his body pressed against hers, his eyes dark and hungry. He wasn't going to let her leave him so easily, and she knew it. A smirk crept onto her lips, sensing his desire. "Oh, I see… you're not ready to say goodnight yet?" she teased, her voice playful but breathless.

Marcus didn't answer with words. He cupped her face, his hands warm against her skin, and without hesitation, he devoured her with a kiss. It was possessive, fierce—like he was claiming her all over again. Diane's purse slipped from her hand, forgotten, as she melted into him, her arms snaking around his neck.

Between kisses, she teased him, her breath ragged. "You're trying to stake your claim after what happened tonight, aren't you? First Wolf, now Rex…"

"Shut up," Marcus growled, pulling her even closer. Diane's body arched into his as he deepened the kiss, his lips capturing hers with a need that sent heat coursing through her.

Diane loved every second of it. She loved the way his possessiveness ignited when it came to her, how his desire for her was so raw and primal—like no one else could ever have her. His hands roamed down her waist, gripping her firmly, his touch sending heat straight through her as if daring her to push him further.

A wicked smirk played on her lips as she whispered against his mouth, breathless and teasing. "You like staking your claim, don't you? Making sure I'm yours?"

Marcus's eyes darkened with a hunger that matched her teasing, his voice low and rough. "Only you," he growled, his lips crashing back into hers with a fierceness that left no doubt—she was his, in every way. His hands tightened around her waist, pulling her flush against him, leaving her breathless and wanting more.

She moaned into the kiss, her pulse racing, her heart pounding in sync with his. The tension between them was electric, fueled by the need they had for each other—a need that went beyond words. He didn't just want her, he needed her—needed to remind her of who she belonged to, of who would always claim her.

And she wanted to be claimed, to be taken, to feel his possession consume every part of her.

Once their heated, unusual goodnight ritual finally slowed, Marcus pulled back, breathless but controlled. With a small, teasing grin, he bent down to pick up Diane's purse from the ground, handing it to her. Diane smiled, her fingers brushing his hand as she rummaged through the purse, eventually fishing out her house key.

Unlocking the door, she stepped inside, turning back to him with a soft, affectionate smile. "Goodnight, handsome," she said, her voice dripping with warmth.

"Goodnight, gorgeous," Marcus teased back with a grin, his eyes still filled with the fire from earlier. "Sweet dreams."

Diane chuckled, leaning against the doorframe for a moment before reluctantly closing the door. She locked it securely and hurried over to the nearest window, peeking out to watch Marcus.

Just as she suspected, he hadn't left yet. Marcus stood beside the Type R, phone pressed to his ear. From her view, she could make out bits of his conversation—it was with their security team. Even now, after everything, Marcus wasn't ready to leave her unprotected.

"Alright, folks," Marcus said over the phone, his voice all business. "Anyone interested in earning some overtime tonight?"

There was a brief pause, followed by the crackle of voices over the line as the majority of the team quickly agreed.

"Good," Marcus continued, his tone serious. "I want a tight perimeter around the Governor's house and this street. Stay on it until morning, then you're clear for a full day off. Understood?"

The team confirmed their orders, and Marcus nodded, satisfied. As the team got into position for the night, Marcus hung up the phone and stood there for a moment, glancing back at Diane's window. Their eyes met through the glass, and for a heartbeat, time stood still. He just couldn't get enough of her, and she knew it. Diane, with a playful smile, blew him a kiss.

Marcus's face softened into a loving smile, one only reserved for her. Then, with a small wave, he got into the Type R, disengaged the handbrake, and shifted the car into gear. The roar of the engine cut through the quiet street as he drove off into the night, heading back to his place.

Diane sighed, enjoying the calm after the evening's intensity. She slipped off her heels, the cool floor beneath her feet a welcome relief. With a contented smile, she made her way toward the bedroom, already looking forward to a peaceful night's rest.