A Line Crossed

The drive back to the villa was silent.

Emma sat beside Alexander in the back of the car, staring out at the passing lights, her thoughts still spinning from what the man at the gala had said.

"Be careful not to get too close."

"When he's done with you, he won't look back."

She didn't want to admit it, but the words had shaken her.

Alexander wasn't a man who let people in.

And yet, every time she thought she had him figured out—he did something that made her question everything.

Like tonight.

Like the way he'd looked at her in that red dress.

Like the way his grip on her waist had tightened during the dance.

Like the way he was looking at her now—dark eyes unreadable, as if he could sense what she was thinking.

"You're quiet," he finally said.

Emma exhaled. "Just tired."

He studied her. "Liar."

She turned to him, eyes narrowing. "Excuse me?"

"You're not tired. You're thinking."

Emma crossed her arms. "And you hate that, don't you?"

His lips twitched slightly, but he didn't deny it.

Emma rolled her eyes and turned back to the window.

Fine. If he didn't want to talk, then neither would she.

The car slowed as they pulled up to the villa, and before Alexander's driver could even open the door—Emma was already stepping out.

She needed space.

She needed air.

But as soon as she made it inside—

She stopped dead in her tracks.

Because standing in the grand foyer, holding a glass of wine and wearing that same smug smirk—

Was Victoria.

Of course.

—

A War of Words

"That was quite the performance tonight," Victoria said smoothly.

Emma sighed. "Can we not do this right now?"

Victoria laughed, taking a sip of her wine. "Oh, don't worry, darling. I actually came to give you a compliment."

Emma folded her arms. "That's new."

"You were… convincing," Victoria admitted. "For someone who doesn't belong in this world."

Emma's jaw tightened.

Victoria took another sip, watching her over the rim of the glass.

"But don't let it go to your head, dear. Because at the end of the day—you're still temporary."

Emma expected the dig.

She really did.

But somehow—it still stung.

And before she could stop herself, she took a step forward, voice low.

"Funny. I don't remember Alexander ever calling you permanent."

Victoria's smirk vanished.

For a second—just a second—her eyes flashed with something dangerous.

Then she let out a slow, almost amused breath.

"Careful, darling," she murmured. "You're starting to sound like you actually believe this little fairy tale."

Emma held her gaze.

"I don't believe in fairy tales," she said simply.

Victoria smiled. "Good. Then you won't be surprised when this one ends."

Emma didn't respond.

Because she wasn't sure she disagreed.

—

A Deal Made in the Dark

Later that night, Emma found herself back on the balcony, arms resting on the railing as she stared out at the lake.

She had never been to a place this beautiful before.

And yet—she felt like she was standing on the edge of something dangerous.

A storm she couldn't outrun.

"You're thinking again."

Emma jumped slightly, whipping around to see Alexander leaning against the doorway.

His tie was loosened, his shirt sleeves rolled up.

He looked…

Unfairly good.

She scowled. "Are you always this observant?"

He smirked, stepping closer. "Only when it comes to you."

Her breath hitched slightly, but she ignored it.

Instead, she turned back to the lake.

After a moment, she sighed.

"Why did you pick me?" she asked softly.

Alexander was quiet for a long time.

Then—

"I told you," he said. "Because you wouldn't try to keep me."

Emma shook her head. "That's not the whole truth."

He studied her for a moment, then sighed.

"You remind me of someone I lost."

Emma swallowed.

She hadn't forgotten those words from last night.

She just hadn't expected him to actually admit it again.

"Who?" she asked quietly.

Alexander's jaw tightened.

For a second, she thought he wouldn't answer.

Then—

"My mother."

Emma's breath caught.

He had never spoken about his family before.

And now, suddenly—this.

She turned to face him fully. "What happened to her?"

Alexander's gaze darkened.

"She died."

The weight of his words settled between them.

Emma hesitated. "I'm sorry."

He exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair.

"You don't have to be," he murmured. "It was a long time ago."

Emma studied him.

His calm mask was still in place—but for the first time, she could see the cracks underneath.

For the first time, he looked…

Human.

—

A Line Crossed

Emma didn't know what came over her.

Maybe it was the way the moonlight softened his sharp edges.

Maybe it was the way his voice had dropped just slightly when he said "she died".

Or maybe—

Maybe it was because she knew exactly what loneliness felt like.

But before she could stop herself—

She reached out, resting a hand on his arm.

Alexander stilled.

For a second, neither of them moved.

Then—he turned to her.

His eyes met hers, something indescribable flickering in their depths.

For the first time since they met, Emma saw something unguarded in his expression.

Something raw.

Something real.

Her heart pounded.

She should move.

She should step back.

But she didn't.

Instead—he did.

Alexander took a slow step forward, his gaze locked on hers.

Emma's breath caught.

Her back hit the railing.

Nowhere to run.

His hand came up, brushing the lightest touch against her jaw.

Emma shivered.

"Tell me to stop," he murmured.

She swallowed hard.

Because the truth was—

She didn't want him to.

But she couldn't say that.

She couldn't.

So instead—she did what she did best.

She lied.

"Stop," she whispered.

For a moment—Alexander didn't move.

Then, slowly, his hand dropped.

His gaze searched hers, as if looking for something.

Then—just like that—

His expression closed off.

The Alexander she had seen just seconds ago—the one with cracks in his armor—

Was gone.

He took a slow step back.

"Goodnight, Emma," he said simply.

And before she could say another word—

He was gone.

Emma stood there, heart hammering, hands trembling.

And for the first time since she had entered this dangerous game with Alexander Westwood—

She realized something.

She had just crossed a line she couldn't uncross.

And she wasn't sure she'd make it out unscathed.