Their relationship became a series of clandestine meetings and coded texts. The contract, once a stark document, had metastasized into the very fabric of their connection. The careful three-foot distance maintained in the hotel corridors, the sterile CC’s on every Vega-related email, and the way his hand would almost, but never quite, brush the small of her back when passing through a doorway all contributed to their secretive relationship.
The penthouse suite, once a thrilling secret, began to feel less like a sanctuary and more like a hideout. A beautiful, opulent bunker. She would arrive under the cover of project meetings that never materialized, the heavy door clicking shut behind her with the finality of a vault sealing. Within its soundproofed walls, they could exist—Xavier and Isa
