That evening, Sophia assigned Emily a special task.
A royal delegation from Dubai had arrived unexpectedly.
The presidential hospitality team was overwhelmed.
Emily was needed upstairs.
At 11:40 p.m., she entered the presidential floor carrying guest documents and special requests.
Everything had to be flawless.
Luxury flower arrangements.
Imported tea service.
Private security clearance.
As she reviewed final details, the suite door behind her opened.
Alexander entered.
He had just returned from another late meeting.
He loosened his cuffs as he watched her organizing paperwork.
"You should be asleep," he said.
Emily didn't look up.
"You should too."
Alexander stepped closer.
"You've worked eighteen hours."
"So have you."
He stopped beside her.
The silence between them felt different tonight.
Softer.
More dangerous.
Emily finally looked up—
And realized how close he was.
Too close.
Neither moved.
Then Alexander reached past her shoulder to pick up a misplaced guest file.
His hand brushed her waist.
A tiny touch.
But enough to send heat through her entire body.
Emily stepped back too quickly and nearly dropped the papers.
Alexander caught them before they fell.
His eyes stayed on hers.
"You're nervous around me."
Emily swallowed.
"No, I'm not."
Alexander's voice lowered.
"You are."
Before she could answer—
Sophia's urgent call came through the hotel line:
"Emily, emergency downstairs. VIP transport failure."
The moment shattered.
Emily grabbed the files and rushed out.
But all night long—
She could still feel where his hand had touched her.