A Night of Unspoken Desires

The air between them had changed. It was no longer the forced civility of strangers bound by obligation. It was thick, charged with an energy that neither of them wanted to acknowledge but couldn't ignore. It had been creeping into their interactions—small moments that made Grace hold her breath, subtle touches that lingered just a little too long. And now, it was undeniable.

Grace sat at the grand dining table, her fingers wrapped around the cool stem of a wine glass, her soup long forgotten. Across from her, Alex sat with his sleeves rolled up, his forearms resting on the table as he skimmed through a business report. The golden glow from the chandelier bathed him in soft light, making him look impossibly composed.

Unlike her.

She hadn't eaten more than a few bites. Her appetite had disappeared, replaced by something else entirely—a restless, unfamiliar heat that made her pulse quicken every time she met his eyes.

"You're not eating," Alex noted without looking up, his voice a low rumble.

Grace's fingers tightened around her glass. "I'm not that hungry," she muttered.

He sighed, setting the papers down and leaning back in his chair. His hazel eyes met hers, assessing, calculating. "You need to eat, Grace."

His voice was softer now, but it still held that commanding edge.

She scoffed, lifting her wine glass to her lips. "Why? So I can have the energy to continue this lovely arrangement we have?"

Alex exhaled sharply, rubbing his temple. "That's not what I meant."

"Then what do you mean?" she pressed, her voice challenging. "Because I'd love to know, Alex. Since you're so concerned all of a sudden."

His jaw clenched. He looked away for a moment, as if weighing his words, before finally meeting her gaze again. "I don't like seeing you like this," he admitted.

Her breath caught.

She hadn't expected honesty. Not from him.

For a moment, the room felt too quiet, the space between them too intimate.

Grace set her glass down carefully, trying to steady her voice. "And what exactly do you think I am like, Alex?"

A slow smirk curved his lips, but there was no humor in his eyes. "Angry. Stubborn. Beautiful, even when you're trying to push me away."

Her stomach flipped.

His words, his voice—it was too much.

"Stop," she whispered.

Alex tilted his head, watching her with a predatory intensity. "Stop what?"

"This," she said, motioning between them. "Whatever game you're playing."

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "Who said I was playing?"

Her pulse pounded. "Because that's what you do, Alex. You manipulate, you control. You make people believe whatever suits you."

His smirk faded. "And you think that's what I'm doing to you?"

She didn't answer.

Because she didn't know.

One moment, she hated him. The next, she wanted him to close the distance between them. It was infuriating.

Alex let out a breath and stood up, moving around the table toward her. Grace stiffened, but she didn't move as he came to stand beside her.

He reached out, his fingers barely grazing her wrist. The lightest touch, yet it sent a shiver up her spine.

"Tell me to stop," he murmured.

She swallowed hard.

She should.

She should tell him to back off, to keep his distance, to stop making her feel things she had no right to feel.

But she didn't.

Her silence was all the answer he needed.

Alex's fingers slid up her arm, tracing an agonizingly slow path. His touch was warm, his movements deliberate. He was testing her, waiting to see if she'd pull away.

She didn't.

Her breath hitched when he leaned down, his lips dangerously close to her ear.

"You hate me, don't you?" he whispered, his voice sending a tremor through her.

"Yes," she breathed, but it didn't sound convincing.

His lips curved against her skin. "Liar."

Before she could protest, his hand moved to her jaw, tilting her face toward him. Their eyes met, and for a moment, the rest of the world ceased to exist.

Alex's gaze dropped to her lips, his thumb brushing over her bottom lip.

Grace's heart pounded.

She knew this was a bad idea. She knew this was reckless, dangerous. But she couldn't look away, couldn't move, couldn't breathe.

"Tell me to stop," he murmured again.

She opened her mouth—whether to tell him to stop or to do something else entirely, she didn't know.

But before she could say anything, a sharp knock at the door shattered the moment.

They both froze.

The spell was broken.

Grace jerked back in her chair, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

Alex exhaled sharply, straightening just as Luca's voice came from the other side of the door.

"Sir, there's an urgent matter that requires your attention."

Alex's jaw tightened. He ran a hand down his face, as if trying to regain control of himself. "I'll be right there."

Grace pushed back from the table, needing to get out of there before she did something stupid—like beg him to finish what he started.

"I should go," she said quickly, already moving toward the door.

"Grace—"

But she didn't wait to hear whatever he was about to say. She needed air. She needed distance.

And most of all, she needed to remind herself that this wasn't real.

This was a contract.

A business deal.

And nothing more.

—

### **Later That Night**

Grace couldn't sleep.

She lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, her mind replaying the moment at dinner over and over again.

The way Alex had looked at her.

The way he had touched her.

The way she had *wanted* him to.

Frustrated, she threw off the covers and slipped out of bed. She needed a distraction.

The house was silent as she padded barefoot toward the kitchen. But as she turned the corner, she stopped dead.

Alex was there.

Standing by the counter, pouring himself a glass of whiskey.

Shirtless.

Grace sucked in a sharp breath. The dim kitchen light cast shadows over his toned body, emphasizing every ridge, every defined muscle.

He turned at the sound of her footsteps, his hazel eyes locking onto hers.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then, a slow smirk crossed his lips. "Can't sleep?"

Grace crossed her arms, trying to ignore the way her body reacted to the sight of him. "What are you doing up?"

Alex took a sip of his whiskey, his gaze never leaving hers. "Thinking."

She swallowed. "About?"

His smirk deepened. "You."

Heat pooled in her stomach.

"I should go," she murmured, but her feet didn't move.

Alex set his glass down and took a slow step toward her.

"You keep running, Grace," he said, his voice a low rumble. "Why?"

She lifted her chin. "Because I know what kind of man you are."

He reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "And what kind of man is that?"

Grace's breath hitched. "The kind that ruins people."

Alex leaned in, his lips mere inches from hers. "And yet, you're still here."

Her resolve wavered. She knew she should walk away. But when he reached for her, when his hands settled on her waist, pulling her closer, she didn't resist.

And when his lips finally met hers, she knew she was already lost.