CHAPTER 06. THE MOMENT WE ALMOST FELL.
1336 Words
I should have left earlier.
The thought repeated itself in my head as the elevator doors slid shut behind me with a soft, unforgiving chime.
Too late now.
Just the two of us.
No assistants lingering behind polite smiles. No security. No witnesses.
No space left to pretend this was harmless.
The elevator was glass on three sides, suspended between floors like a confession waiting to be spoken. Soft golden lighting reflected off chrome and mirrors, turning silence into something tangible. It pressed against my chest, thick and uncomfortable.
I stared at the glowing numbers above the door as they climbed.
One floor.
Two.
My reflection stared back at me, composed, elegant, untouchable. The woman everyone believed I was.
But I could feel him beside me.
I did not need to look.
His presence always did that. It altered gravity. Shifted the air. Drew attention the way storms does, slowly at first,then all at once.
"You are quiet again," he said.
His voice was calm, almost idle, but I knew better by now. Nothing about him was ever casual.
I kept my eyes forward.
"Is that a habit," he continued, "or a defense?".
I turned my head slowly. "Does it matter?".
A faint curve touched his mouth. Not a smile.
A suggestion of one.
"Everything matters with you."
The words should not unsettle me.
But they did.
The elevator hummed as it rose. Outside the glass walls, the city blurred into streaks of light, music and laughter drifting faintly from the event below. A celebration. A world untouched by the tension gathering here.
"You do not behave like someone engaged,"he said.
The tone was light.
The intent was not.
I met his gaze. "You seem very interested in my engagement."
He did not deny it.
Instead,he studied me with that unnerving focus, like he was not looking at me, but through me.
"I am interested in contraindications," he said.
"And you think I'm one?".
"I know you are".
The elevator slowed.
Then stopped.
The doors slid open with a quiet sigh.
Neither of us moved.
For one suspended second, the city, the noise, the world itself seemed to pause, waiting to see who would step out first.
I did.
The rooftop greeted us with open air and wind. The night was cool, sharp against my skin. The city stretched endlessly below,glass and steel and high ambition stacked high, glowing with power.
I walked towards the railing.
I knew he would follow.
He always did.
"You should not be here", I said, the words familiar on my tongue.
"And yet," he replied softly behind me, "you keep coming where I can find you."
I turned.
He was closer than I expected.
Close enough that the space between us felt intentional rather than accidental.
"This is a mistake," I said.
"Then why are you not walking away?" he asked.
Because my body refused to obey.
Because something deep inside me, something I had buried beneath years of discipline and reinvention was stirring.
I hated how quickly my pulse betrayed me. How my breathing changed when he leaned forward just slightly. How my attention narrowed until the world contained only spaces between us.
His gaze dropped briefly to my mouth.
I noticed.
And that was the problem.
"Why would I take notice of his gaze on me?"
"You look at me like you are angry," he said.
"I am".
"That is not what I meant".
His voice lowered, softened.
"You look at me like you want to hurt me".
The truth rose dangerously close to the surface.
'Why is he so savvy?'
"I might,' I said.
Something flashed in his eyes.
Interest. Hunger. Recognition.
"Then do it."
The words should not have sounded like an invitation.
But they did.
The wind swept between us, tugging at my dress, carrying the hum of the city upward.
I stepped closer.
Just one step.
Not enough to touch.
But just enough to be felt.
His breath changed.
I noticed because I was watching too closely.
Because I needed to know whether he still had control.
He did not.
"You do not remember me," I said quietly.
The shift in him was subtle, but I caught it. A tightening of his jaw. A pause that lasted half a second too long.
"No," he said slowly. "But you feel familiar ".
My heart struck hard against my ribs.
Dangerous ground.
"You're imagining it."
"Maybe," he admitted. "But my instincts have never been wrong about a woman".
That should have irritated me.
Instead,it unsettled me.
He reached out...
Then stopped himself.
The restraint did something to me.
"Tell me to stop,"he said.
I did not.
That was my mistake.
His fingers brushed my wrist.
Not a hold.
Not a possession.
A question.
Heat sparked instantly, racing up my arm like jolts of electricity along exposed wire. I despised how immediate it was. How alive it made me feel after years of emotional numbness.
Years I had worked hard to maintain.
I pulled my hand back.
He froze at once,as if movement itself required my permission.
"I will not cross a line you do not open,' he said.
That was new.
That was not the man I remembered.
It unsettled me far more than I could ever admit.
"You think you are in control," I said.
"I know I am not," he replied quietly.
The honest landed heavily between us.
"You do not want this".
"Tell me why," he said.
Because you broke me.
Because you chose ambition over me.
Because if you look too closely,you will remember exactly who I am.
"I am engaged," I said instead.
"Yes," he replied. "And yet,you are standing here with me".
His hands lifted again. Slower this time.
Careful. Asking without words.
I should have stopped him.
I did not.
His fingers brushed my cheek.
Just that.
The world narrowed.
His touch was warm, achingly familiar. Memories flooded my senses without permission. My body reacted before my mind could intervene.
I closed my eyes.
A reflex I had not allowed myself in years.
His breath hitched.
That tiny, involuntary sound told me everything.
He was affected.
Good.
When I opened my eyes,he was closer. Close enough that I could feel the heat of him.
"You feel like a memory I lost," he murmured.
"I am not".
"Then why does this feel like coming home?".
The word struck something fragile inside of me.
I stepped back sharply.
"No".
The command snapped clean through the night.
He stopped instantly.
Not offended.
Not angry.
Focused.
"You are afraid," he said.
"Of you?" I laughed softly.
"Do not flatter yourself".
"Then of yourself." He said.
That landed with brutal accuracy."You think you can unravel me?" I said. "You can not."
"I do not want to," he replied. " I want you to let me."
I shook my head. " You do not get to want me."
Silence followed.
Not empty-charged.
His jaw tightened, restraint stretching thin across his features.
"You have no idea how hard I am trying to not take a step closer right now," he said.
My pulse spiked.
"Then,do not." I whispered.
We stood there, desire coiled between us, unsatisfied, dangerous, humming like a live wire.
If he kissed me, I was not sure I would stop it.
That terrified me.
So I did the only thing that preserved my control.
I leaned in first.
Just enough that my lips brushed the corner of his mouth.
Not a kiss.
A warning.
A promise.
A threat.
His breath broke.
I pulled away instantly.
"You do not touch what you have not earned," I said softly.
His eyes darkened with something fierce.
"Then tell me how to earn it."
I smiled.
"You will not like the cost."
I turned away before my resolve cracked.
Behind me, I felt his gaze follow.
Burning.
Awake.
Hungry.
And for the first time since my return, I accepted the truth I had been avoiding.
The game had changed.
I was not the only one playing anymore.
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