Chapter Twelve
679 Words
****Maria’s POV****
By the time we reached the car, my pulse had mostly settled—mostly.
Andrew opened the door for me, his expression unreadable, his movements precise and polite, like nothing had just happened upstairs.
We slipped into the car in silence, and the moment the door closed behind us, the air felt different. Denser.
City lights flashed through the tinted windows as we cut through traffic, but inside, it was still and quiet. Too quiet.
I became hyperaware of everything: the faint scent of his cologne, the way his suit fit snugly over his shoulders, the slow, deliberate way he gripped the steering wheel like he was trying not to let something—anything—slip.
“You were incredible in there,” he said finally, his voice low, almost reluctant.
I blinked. “Thanks.”
“You caught them off guard. Especially Farrow’s advisor. You had her rethinking their entire offer.”
A small smile tugged at my lips. “She underestimated me.”
Andrew glanced at me—really looked this time, with an intensity that sent a slow heat up my neck. “They all do.”
There was something in his tone. Something raw and unfiltered, like he hadn’t meant to say it out loud.
I looked away first. “Let them. Makes it easier to win.”
He paused. “You really want this deal.”
“Of course I do,” I said, turning slightly toward him. “It’s not just about the numbers. This changes everything—for the company. For you.”
He didn’t answer right away. Then, quieter: “You keep saying ‘you.’
My breath caught, just for a moment.
“Well… it’s not, is it?” I said carefully.
His jaw clenched, just a flicker of tension along his cheek. “If that's what you believe”
“What else am I supposed to believe?” I asked softly. “We have a contract, Andrew. That’s all this is. A strategy. A performance.”
He pulled the car into the underground garage, the tires hissing faintly against the concrete. When the engine stopped, he turned to me, one arm draped across the back of my seat. Something in his eyes shifted—no longer sharp, but conflicted. Troubled.
“You think I’ve done all of this for a performance?”
I let out a hollow laugh. “To impress the board, the press, the investors—wasn’t that the point?”
His gaze darkened. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you since that night.”
The silence that followed was sharp enough to slice through glass.
My breath faltered. I didn’t know what to say—how to respond—because something about the way he said it didn’t feel like a line. It felt real. Painfully real.
“Why do you say things like that?” I whispered. “You’ll take them back tomorrow.”
He leaned in, his face inches from mine. “Because for once, I’m not going to lie to you.”
My heart pounded, loud enough I was sure he could hear it.
“And what happens,” I said slowly, “when this stops being a game? What happens when someone actually gets hurt?”
His eyes were already on my lips, as his fingers brushed along my jaw, so lightly I nearly shivered. “Maybe that’s already happened.”
I didn’t move. Didn’t flinch.
I should have.
Instead, I whispered, “Then what are we doing?”
He didn’t answer right away. Just let his thumb drag gently along my lower lip like he was memorizing it.
“Something dangerous,” he said finally.
And then he kissed me.
It wasn’t rushed or reckless. It was slow—devastatingly slow. Intentional. Like he wanted me to feel every single second of it. Like he wanted to erase the lie we’d both been telling ourselves with nothing but his mouth.
And for a few breathless seconds, I let him.
Because maybe—just maybe—it didn’t feel fake anymore.
- Writer
