"Who was she?"
The question slipped out before Amara could stop it.
They were already outside now, the city air cooler than the heated space they'd just left behind. The hum of traffic filled the silence between them, headlights passing in blurred streaks as if the world was moving faster than she could process.
Adrian glanced at her.
Not surprised.
Not caught off guard.
Just… aware.
"Clara? An old connection."
"That's vague."
"That's intentional."
Amara crossed her arms, her gaze fixed forward, though her attention was entirely on him. "I don't like her."
That made him smile.
A small, knowing curve of his lips.
"You don't like anyone."
"I tolerate people."
"And me?"
Amara hesitated.
Just a fraction.
But Adrian caught it immediately.
Of course he did.
"That's what I thought," he said softly.
Her gaze shifted away, the smallest crack in her composure. "Don't change the subject."
"I'm not."
"Yes, you are."
He stopped walking.
And because he stopped, she had no choice but to stop too.
The city continued around them—cars passing, lights flickering, distant voices blending into nothing—but here, in this moment, everything narrowed.
To just the two of them.
"Say it," Adrian said.
Amara frowned slightly. "Say what?"
"You're jealous."
The words weren't sharp.
They weren't accusing.
They were… certain.
Like he was stating something already confirmed.
"I'm not."
"You are."
"I'm not."
She said it faster this time.
Defensive.
Immediate.
But something in her tone betrayed her—just enough.
Adrian stepped closer.
Again.
Too close.
Again.
Not invading.
Not forcing.
But enough to make the space between them feel intentional.
Close enough that she had to look up slightly to meet his gaze.
Close enough that her heartbeat had nowhere to hide.
"Say it again," he murmured.
His voice was quieter now.
Lower.
More focused.
Amara's breath caught, just for a second, before she forced herself to steady it.
"I'm not jealous."
But this time—
It didn't sound as certain.
Didn't sound as absolute.
Adrian tilted his head slightly, studying her like he already knew the answer. Like he didn't need her to say it anymore.
Like he could see it.
Feel it.
Understand it.
"Good," he said.
Amara blinked.
That wasn't the reaction she expected.
"That's it?" she asked, her brows drawing together slightly.
"That's it."
There was no satisfaction in his tone.
No victory.
No teasing.
Just quiet acceptance.
Amara frowned more now, genuinely thrown. "You're annoying."
"And you're lying."
She exhaled sharply, but there was no real anger behind it.
Only tension.
Only awareness.
Only something she refused to name.
Because underneath everything—
The argument.
The jealousy.
The presence of someone from his past—
Was something far more unsettling.
Something she hadn't allowed herself to feel in a long time.
Something that didn't fit into strategy or logic or control.
Something that made her chest tighten in a way she couldn't easily dismiss.
Wanting.
Not power.
Not control.
Not victory.
But something simpler.
Something far more dangerous.
Wanting him to care.
And worse—
Realizing he already did.