I shouldn't have walked away.
The thought hit before I even reached the end of the hall.
Sharp. Immediate.
Annoying.
I slowed, just slightly, fingers tightening at my side as the noise of the party faded into something distant. Useless. Background.
Because my head wasn't there anymore.
It was still behind me.
With her.
Luna.
I exhaled through my nose, jaw flexing.
Control.
That's what this was supposed to be.
A deal. An arrangement. A calculated move between two families who didn't trust each other but needed to pretend they did.
Simple.
Clean.
Predictable.
Except—
she wasn't.
And that was the problem.
I turned into a quieter corridor, the lights dimmer here, softer. The kind of place people didn't come unless they wanted privacy… or trouble.
Both worked.
My hand brushed against the wall briefly as I stopped, tilting my head back just enough to stare at the ceiling.
I could still see her.
The way she looked at me—like she was trying to figure me out while refusing to admit she already cared.
The way her voice dropped when she warned me.
The way she didn't step back this time.
That—
that was new.
And I noticed everything that changed.
A faint smirk tugged at my lips.
Progress.
Dangerous, slow progress.
Footsteps echoed behind me.
Light.
Measured.
Familiar.
I didn't turn.
"Following me now?" I said, voice low.
Silence.
Then—
"I could ask you the same thing."
Yeah.
Definitely her.
I closed my eyes for half a second before turning.
And there she was.
Standing at the edge of the hallway like she belonged there. Like she hadn't just walked out of a room full of people who would tear each other apart for less than what we were doing right now.
Her expression was composed.
But her eyes—
her eyes were alive.
Still burning from earlier.
Still… unsettled.
Good.
"You left," she added, crossing her arms slightly.
I leaned back against the wall, watching her. "You noticed."
A small pause.
Then—"Hard not to."
That shouldn't have felt like anything.
It did.
I tilted my head. "Thought you were busy being… controlled."
Her eyes narrowed slightly. "And I thought you were better at hiding when you're bothered."
That made me chuckle.
Soft.
Real.
"Careful," I said. "You're starting to sound like you understand me."
"I don't need to understand you," she replied coolly. "You're not that complicated."
That was a lie.
And we both knew it.
Just like she wasn't simple either.
Silence settled between us again.
But it wasn't awkward.
It never was.
It was heavy.
Thick with everything neither of us was saying.
My gaze moved over her again, slower this time.
Taking her in without pretending I wasn't.
Her shoulders weren't as rigid now.
Her breathing wasn't as steady either.
And there it was—
that same tension from earlier.
Unresolved.
Unfinished.
"You came after me," I said quietly.
Not a question.
Her chin lifted slightly. "Don't flatter yourself."
Too quick.
Too defensive.
I pushed off the wall.
Closed the distance again.
One step.
Then another.
Until we were exactly where we shouldn't be.
Close.
Too close.
Her breath shifted.
Again.
And this time—
she didn't hide it as well.
"Then why are you here?" I asked, softer now.
She didn't answer immediately.
Her eyes flickered briefly—like she was searching for something solid to stand on.
Something safe.
There wasn't any.
Not here.
Not with me.
"I don't like unfinished conversations," she said finally.
I smiled slightly.
"Liar."
Her lips parted—
just enough.
And for a second—
she didn't argue.
Didn't deny it.
That was all the confirmation I needed.
My hand lifted before I could stop it.
Slow.
Deliberate.
I didn't touch her.
Not yet.
But I let my fingers hover near her arm—
close enough for her to feel the heat.
Close enough to give her a choice.
She didn't move away.
That…
that said more than anything else.
"Tell me to stop," I murmured.
Her eyes snapped to mine.
Conflicted.
Sharp.
But underneath—
something softer.
Something she was trying very hard to bury.
"Why would I?" she asked quietly.
That answer—
it landed deeper than it should have.
I stepped closer.
Until there was no space left to pretend.
My hand finally touched her arm.
Light.
Barely there.
But enough.
Her skin was warm.
Real.
And for a second—
everything else disappeared.
No business.
No Adrian.
No expectations.
Just—
this.
Us.
And the tension we kept pretending didn't exist.
"You're playing a dangerous game," she whispered.
I leaned in slightly, my voice dropping with hers.
"So are you."
Her breath caught again.
And this time—
I didn't ignore it.
My fingers shifted just slightly, brushing higher along her arm, slower now.
Testing.
Learning.
Feeling the way she reacted.
She didn't pull away.
Didn't stop me.
But her control—
it was slipping.
Bit by bit.
"I should go," she said suddenly.
But she didn't move.
I smiled faintly.
"No, you shouldn't."
Her eyes searched mine.
For what—I didn't know.
Or maybe I did.
Permission.
Denial.
Something to make this easier.
There wasn't anything.
Because this—
wasn't easy.
It wasn't supposed to be.
"Zane…" she started.
My name.
On her lips.
Soft.
Unsteady.
That was it.
That was the line.
And I crossed it.
My hand moved from her arm to her waist, pulling her just slightly closer—not enough to trap, just enough to make it undeniable.
Her breath hitched sharply.
But she didn't push me away.
Didn't fight.
Not this time.
And God—
that was worse.
Because now it wasn't just tension.
It wasn't just curiosity.
It was choice.
And she was making it.
Even if she wouldn't admit it.
"You keep saying it means nothing," I said quietly, my voice rougher now. "But you keep coming back."
Her hands tightened slightly at her sides.
Conflict.
Everywhere.
"I don't come back," she whispered. "You don't leave."
I huffed a quiet laugh.
"Maybe."
My thumb shifted slightly at her waist, barely brushing—
enough to make her inhale again.
"And maybe," I added, softer now, "you don't want me to."
That—
that broke something.
Not loudly.
Not obviously.
But I saw it.
Felt it.
The hesitation.
The truth she was trying to outrun.
And for a second—
just a second—
she leaned into me.
Barely.
But enough.
Enough to make everything else irrelevant.
My forehead almost touched hers.
Almost.
Close enough to feel her breath.
Close enough to lose whatever control I had left.
"Say it," I murmured.
She didn't.
Couldn't.
And I didn't push.
Because I already knew.
The way her hands slowly lifted—
hesitating—
before resting lightly against my chest.
Not pushing.
Not stopping.
Just… there.
That was answer enough.
And in that moment—
nothing about this felt like business anymore.