Mia's POV
The silence in the penthouse was different tonight.
It wasn't peaceful or comforting—it was heavy. As if the absence of Eric had stolen the warmth from every corner. The boy's laughter still echoed in her head, like a ghost in the walls.
She stood by the window, watching the city lights, her heart pounding for reasons she didn't want to name.
She heard footsteps.
Ryan.
He emerged from his room, his hair slightly tousled, shirt unbuttoned at the top. There was something untamed in his silver eyes, something restless that mirrored her own.
"You're still awake," he said quietly.
She nodded. "Couldn't sleep."
Their eyes locked. She hated how he looked at her. Like he saw too much, and still—never enough. He moved closer, and for a second, she didn't breathe.
Neither of them spoke. The silence between them twisted, pulled taut by emotions they didn't dare voice.
Then, suddenly—his hand was on her cheek. Warm. Steady.
And then… his lips were on hers.
The kiss wasn't violent or desperate—it was slow, filled with confusion and longing and something dangerously close to vulnerability. His hand cupped the back of her head, and she melted for a moment too long.
But the reality struck her just as hard.
What was she doing?
Mia tore away, breathing hard, her fingers trembling.
"I… I can't," she whispered, eyes wide.
Ryan took a slow step back, his jaw clenched, breathing uneven.
"Mia—"
But she didn't wait.
She ran to her room, slammed the door, and locked it behind her.
She collapsed on the bed, heart thundering in her chest, shame and heat warring in her veins. What the hell just happened?
Ryan's POV
He stood frozen in place, the echo of her kiss still burning on his lips.
"Damn it!" he hissed, dragging a hand through his hair.
What had he been thinking?
She was his contracted wife, the woman taking care of his nephew, the one person he needed to keep things clean and controlled with. This wasn't supposed to happen.
Yet he kissed her.
And she ran.
Good. She should have.
Ryan turned toward his room, cursing under his breath.
He'd made a mistake. A line was drawn tonight. And they'd both felt it.
But whether they could avoid crossing it again… that was a question neither of them had an answer to.