The Space Between Us
979 Words
The ride back from the gala was quiet, but it wasn’t the usual silence. This one hummed. Thick with things unsaid, emotions unspoken, and that strange energy that clung to Eva’s skin like heat.
Andre sat beside her, looking out the window, his profile sharp and unreadable. He hadn’t said much since they left the gala — only a nod when she stepped into the car, only a brief glance when she sat down beside him in that red dress he’d told her to wear.
That dress.
That look in his eyes.
She couldn’t forget it.
When they entered the penthouse, Andre walked straight to the bar, loosening his tie without a word. Eva stood by the doorway for a moment, her fingers playing with the clasp of her purse. The tension between them had been growing all night. And now that they were alone, it was impossible to ignore.
“Drink?” he asked, already pouring two glasses.
She nodded. “Sure.”
Their fingers brushed as he handed her the glass. That small contact made her breath hitch, made something shift between them — again.
He sat on the couch, and she followed, curling onto the opposite end. The city lights outside the glass wall painted soft patterns across his skin.
“You didn’t say much in the car,” she murmured.
“I didn’t have much to say.”
She looked down at the wine in her hand, swirling it gently. “Did I embarrass you tonight?”
Andre turned his gaze to her, and the weight of it made her chest tighten.
“No,” he said. “You looked like you belonged there.”
She gave a small, disbelieving laugh. “Sure.”
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I mean it. You held yourself like you were born into it.”
“I wasn’t. And we both know it.”
Andre’s voice dropped, low and quiet. “Neither was I.”
That surprised her. But before she could ask more, he stood and walked toward the tall windows, his silhouette cast against the glowing skyline.
She watched him in silence, the rise and fall of his chest, the way his hands clenched at his sides. He looked… restless. Like he was trying to hold something in.
“You asked me once why I needed a wife,” he said after a long pause, still facing the city. “I told you it was business. That wasn’t the full truth.”
She sat up straighter.
“My father’s will,” he continued. “There’s a clause. If I’m not married by my thirty-third birthday, I lose the company. Everything.”
Eva blinked. “That’s… intense.”
He gave a dry chuckle. “It’s control from beyond the grave. He didn’t believe I could lead without being ‘anchored.’ So I gave him a marriage. On paper.”
“And you picked me because I was convenient,” she said softly.
He turned to her slowly, eyes shadowed.
“At the time… yes.”
That stung more than it should have. Even knowing this was never real, hearing it out loud carved something sharp inside her.
She stood abruptly. “Thanks for the honesty.”
“Eva—”
“I’m going to bed.”
She walked down the hall, heart pounding, eyes burning. But her feet didn’t carry her far. She stopped just before her door and leaned against the wall, closing her eyes.
Why did it hurt?
Why did he hurt?
Moments passed. She told herself to walk away. To breathe. To forget the look in his eyes.
But something pulled her toward the balcony instead.
---
The air outside was crisp, cooler than she expected. She stepped barefoot onto the stone floor, wrapping her arms around herself.
Andre was there.
Shirtless.
His back was to her, tense, hands gripping the railing. The moonlight made his skin glow, highlighting every line of his back, every muscle pulled taut with restraint.
She should have turned back. But she didn’t.
“You can’t sleep either?” she asked gently.
He didn’t move. “Too much noise in my head.”
She came closer, close enough to feel his heat.
“You’re cold,” he said, turning to face her. His voice was lower now, almost a whisper. “You’re barefoot.”
“I’m okay,” she whispered.
He took a step forward and placed a hand on her arm. She shivered.
“You’re not.”
The warmth of his touch seeped through her skin, and something in her chest cracked open. Her breath caught. He was so close now, his bare chest just inches from her, his hand still on her arm, thumb tracing gently along her skin.
“You should go inside,” he said, voice tight.
“Should I?”
His eyes locked on hers. “Yes.”
But he didn’t move. Neither did she.
“Then say it,” Eva whispered. “Say it like you mean it.”
Andre’s jaw clenched. His hand moved — up to her jaw, fingers brushing her cheek, his thumb grazing her bottom lip.
“Eva—”
“Tell me to stop.”
He didn’t.
Instead, he leaned in, and his lips met hers — slow at first, unsure, like he was afraid she might vanish. Then deeper. Hungrier. Like he couldn’t pretend anymore.
She melted into him. Her hands found his chest, warm and solid, and everything else fell away. The fake titles, the contract, the distance. All of it blurred into heat and breath and need.
When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads rested against each other’s, breath mingling in the quiet night.
He didn’t say anything.
And neither did she.
But for the first time… they didn’t feel like strangers in a contract.
They felt like something more.
- Writer
