Tension at the Table

The restaurant was dimly lit, the kind of place meant for whispered conversations and stolen glances. Thea sat stiffly beside Andrew, her fiancé, her fingers curled around the stem of her wine glass. Across from her, Aiden leaned back in his chair, exuding an ease that only heightened the tension between them.

He had barely taken his eyes off her all evening.

Andrew, oblivious, was deep in conversation with another faculty member about politics. Thea, however, was too aware of the way Aiden's gaze lingered—on her hands, her lips, the delicate curve of her neck. She tried to focus on Andrew's words, but all she could hear was the memory of Aiden's voice, the way he had murmured against her skin in the darkness of the library.

When the waiter refilled her wine, her fingers trembled slightly. Aiden noticed. Of course, he did.

"Long day?" he asked, his voice low, just for her.

She looked up, her pulse kicking. "Something like that."

Andrew finally turned his attention back to them. "So, Professor Carter," he said, smiling, "how do you find working with Thea? She's brilliant, isn't she?"

Aiden's smirk was subtle, but Thea saw it. "Brilliant, yes. Passionate. Stubborn."

Andrew chuckled, missing the undercurrent in Aiden's voice. "That sounds like her."

Thea wanted to look away, but Aiden's gaze held her captive. It was an unspoken dare, a silent acknowledgment of everything that shouldn't be happening between them. And yet, it was.

She swallowed hard and forced herself to smile. "Andrew, tell them about your new project," she said, desperate to shift the conversation.

As he spoke, she risked one more glance at Aiden.

The way he looked at her told her everything she already knew.

This wasn't over.