Beneath The Surface
883 Words
Eva didn’t sleep.
Not even a little.
The documents haunted her. Names she didn’t know. Numbers that didn’t add up. Transactions that pointed to a man far more dangerous than the cold billionaire she’d married.
But more than the details… it was the weight of it all.
Andre Lancaster wasn’t just emotionally unavailable. He was hiding a storm — and now she was standing right in the center of it.
She closed the folder slowly and placed it back on the table.
The house was silent.
But silence in this penthouse didn’t mean peace. It never did.
---
Study – 2:47 AM
She found him there — behind his massive desk, sleeves rolled up, tie discarded, fingers rubbing the bridge of his nose like he was trying to erase something painful.
He didn’t look up when she entered.
But he felt her.
She stood there quietly for a second before speaking.
“You should’ve told me.”
His voice was low. “Would you have stayed if I had?”
“I don’t know,” she whispered. “But at least I would’ve had the choice.”
He finally looked up, eyes darker than she remembered.
“That’s exactly why I didn’t.”
They stared at each other, the space between them heavy with everything unspoken.
Eva stepped closer. “You used to be involved with people… dangerous ones. You moved money for them. You helped them disappear. That’s what this is, right?”
He didn’t confirm it. He didn’t deny it.
“I did what I had to do,” he said. “When my father died, he left more than a company behind. He left enemies. Debt. Threats. I had to clean up the mess. Fast. No one else would protect my family.”
“And now?” she asked. “Are you still in that world?”
“No,” he said. “But that world doesn’t let go easily. And people like the man you met tonight — they feed on old blood.”
Eva wrapped her arms around herself.
“All this time I thought you were just cold,” she said softly. “But really, you’re afraid.”
He flinched, just slightly. “You don’t know what I’ve done.”
She stepped even closer, her voice steady now.
“Then tell me.”
---
Living Room – 3:10 AM
They sat across from each other on opposite ends of the long velvet couch, a soft lamp casting gold across the space.
Andre leaned back, eyes on the ceiling.
“When I was twenty-two, I took over Lancaster Industries. My father had a stroke, and everything fell apart. The board didn’t trust me. Our accounts were frozen. Suppliers pulled out.”
Eva listened in silence.
“I had two choices,” he continued. “Let the company die… or let someone fix it.”
“Fix it how?”
“I borrowed money. From the kind of people who don’t use banks.”
Eva’s lips parted. “Mafia?”
He nodded once. “Something close.”
She took a breath, processing it all.
“You paid them back?”
“Yes. With interest.” He met her gaze. “But paying them back didn’t erase the connection. Once you're in… you’re in.”
A beat passed.
“And now?” she asked. “Why the marriage contract? Why me?”
Andre hesitated.
Then, softly: “Because one of them came back. Asking for a piece of my company.”
Eva’s eyes widened. “So this marriage… was to protect your business?”
“Yes. A public wife. A new image. Stability. No weaknesses to exploit.”
She let out a breath. “Except I became one.”
His voice was quieter now. “You weren’t supposed to matter.”
Her chest ached. “But I do.”
He nodded slowly.
“You do.”
---
Eva’s Room – Later That Night
He walked her to her door like something fragile had shifted between them.
Eva hesitated at the threshold, fingers brushing the doorknob.
“Thank you for telling me the truth,” she said.
Andre didn’t say anything. He just looked at her — eyes tired, haunted, but soft in a way that made her stomach flutter.
“You know,” she said quietly, “for someone so cold, you feel everything too deeply.”
He gave a breath of a laugh, low and rough. “Don’t say that too loud. Might ruin my reputation.”
She smiled.
It was small. But it was real.
Then, without thinking, she leaned up and brushed her lips against his cheek.
Soft. Gentle.
He turned his face ever so slightly, and for a second, their lips almost touched.
But Eva stepped back.
“Goodnight, Andre.”
And she closed the door, heart pounding like it had just betrayed her.
---
Andre’s POV – His Bedroom
He stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, city lights twinkling beneath him, his reflection ghosting in the glass.
He had never planned to fall for her.
She was supposed to be temporary. Strategic.
But now?
He didn’t want her to leave.
Didn’t want her to look at him like a stranger.
And he didn’t know what scared him more — losing her… or keeping her.
- Writer
