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Charlotte is the daughter of Charles’s late best friend. Her father, a man Charles deeply respected, died when she was just a child. On his deathbed, he entrusted Charlotte’s safety and future to Charles, making him promise to protect her no matter what. For years, Charles financially supported her and acting as a father figure, ensuring she had everything she needed.

But now, Charlotte has turned 18, and circumstances force her to step into Charles’s world. No longer a helpless child, she is a beautiful, intelligent young woman, and for the first time, Charles sees her differently. He fights against his emotions, knowing she’s too young, too pure, and most of all—someone he has sworn to protect. But Charlotte, unaware of his internal struggle, finds herself drawn to him, eager to prove that what they feel is real.

Torn between Duty and Desires

The night after their almost-confession, Charles is different. Cold. Distant. He avoids eye contact, keeps his conversations clipped, and every time Charlotte enters a room, he finds a reason to leave.

Charlotte isn't the type to sit back and pretend nothing happened. Not when she felt it—the hesitation in his touch, the way he almost leaned in. She knows he wants her. And now, he's running from it.

In his office, Charles stares at the same document for twenty minutes without reading a word. He clenches his fists, remembering the way her breath hitched when he touched her, the way his control nearly snapped.

"This is wrong," he mutters under his breath.

She's his responsibility. His late best friend's daughter. The girl he swore to protect, not to—

He exhales sharply, shoving back his chair. He needs distance. He needs control.

At dinner, Charlotte decides she's had enough. If Charles wants to pretend nothing happened, fine. But she won't make it easy for him.

She wears a dress that hugs her figure just right, something classy but undeniably alluring. When she enters the dining room, she sees it—Charles goes rigid. His knuckles whiten around his fork. Good.

She takes her seat across from him, and instead of sulking in silence, she leans forward slightly, resting her chin on her palm. "You've been avoiding me, Charles."

His jaw tightens. "Don't be ridiculous."

"Am I?" She tilts her head. "Because last night, I could've sworn—"

"Enough." His voice is sharp, but it wavers at the edges.

Charlotte smirks, satisfied that he's just as affected as she is. But before she can push further, Isabella walks in, plopping down beside them. "What's with the tension? Did you two finally have an argument?"

Charles sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Eat your food, Isabella."

Isabella smirks knowingly. "Touchy."

Later that night, Charlotte steps outside to the garden for fresh air, only to find Charles already there, standing by the railing with a drink in his hand.

She hesitates for a moment but then walks up beside him. "Couldn't sleep?"

He doesn't look at her. "You should be in bed."

"I will. After you stop pretending nothing happened."

Charles sets his drink down, finally turning to her. His eyes are unreadable. "It was a mistake, Charlotte."

Her heart clenches, but she doesn't back down. "Was it?"

Then, barely above a whisper, Charles says, "You don't understand what you're doing to me."

Charlotte steps closer, her voice soft but firm. "Then stop running and tell me."

For a second, it looks like he might. Like he might finally let go of the restraint holding him back. But then—

He exhales, stepping away. "Go inside, Charlotte."

She watches as he turns and walks away, leaving her alone in the moonlight.

And this time, she knows—he's not avoiding her because he doesn't feel the same. He's avoiding her because he does.

Chapter 7: A Battle of Distance and Desire