The office was too quiet.
Elara kept her head down, fingers flying across the keyboard, trying to ignore the heavy tension swirling like a storm cloud in the room. Across from her, sitting behind a sleek black desk, was Xander Thorne—her legally-wedded husband and the bane of her existence.
Correction: her cold-hearted husband, who hadn't said a word to her since their strange dinner the night before.
She'd caught him staring at her more than once this morning, but whenever she looked up, his expression snapped back into his usual mask of indifference.
"What did I do this time?" she muttered under her breath, exasperated.
"What was that?" Xander's voice cut through the silence.
Elara blinked and shook her head. "Nothing. Just talking to myself."
He leaned back in his chair, watching her with an unreadable expression. His sharp jawline twitched, and his fingers drummed rhythmically on the desk.
"You've been… distracted today."
She scoffed quietly. "And you haven't?"
Xander stood up and walked toward her. Elara immediately felt the shift in air as his towering frame approached. He leaned against the side of her desk, arms crossed, eyes narrowed slightly. "Something bothering you?"
Elara hesitated. Was it worth bringing up the dinner last night? The way his mood flipped when she mentioned her old college friend, Damien, texting her?
She cleared her throat. "No. Just… tired."
It wasn't a lie. She hadn't slept much last night, replaying every word they exchanged at dinner. Xander had gone from distant to subtly possessive in the blink of an eye.
"About Damien," he said abruptly.
Elara's heart stuttered. So that was it. "What about him?"
"I don't like him texting you." His voice was calm. Too calm.
Her eyes narrowed. "You don't like a friend texting me? Do I need to get your permission now?"
His jaw clenched. "Don't twist my words. I just don't think it's appropriate. You're married."
"To someone who didn't even want to get married in the first place," she shot back before she could stop herself.
The temperature in the room seemed to drop a few degrees. Xander straightened, his posture stiff. "Is that how you really see this?"
Elara stood up, folding her arms. "You made it clear that this marriage was a contract. You said emotions would only complicate things. So excuse me if I don't know where the lines are drawn anymore."
Xander's eyes darkened. "I never said you could flirt with other men."
"Flirt?" She laughed, incredulous. "You think I'm flirting just because an old friend reached out?"
"You smiled when his name came up," he said tightly.
Elara stared at him, stunned. "Are you jealous?"
He didn't answer. Didn't need to. The silence said everything.
And that scared her more than anything.
"Why would you care?" she whispered, voice softer now. "You're the one who insisted we keep this marriage professional. Distant. Emotionless. So why does Damien bother you?"
Xander looked away for a long moment, his jaw working as if he were fighting an internal battle. Then he muttered, "Because he knows you before I did. Because he can make you laugh like that."
Elara's breath hitched. "You've never cared about making me laugh."
"Maybe I do now."
Silence stretched between them like a taut wire ready to snap.
She could see it—under the steel and pride, he was cracking. Letting something real slip out. But before she could process it, his phone buzzed.
He glanced at the screen, and his expression instantly shuttered. "I have a meeting. We'll continue this later."
And just like that, the wall was back up. He walked out, leaving her to drown in a whirlpool of questions.
That evening, Elara stood by the grand windows of the penthouse, watching the city lights flicker like stars scattered across the night. Her thoughts were a mess, tangled and noisy.
She wasn't supposed to care.
She wasn't supposed to want anything more from this marriage.
But Xander's words haunted her.
Maybe I do now.
What did that mean? Was he finally seeing her as more than a business partner? Or was it just a possessive streak, born from ego and pride?
The sound of the front door clicking open made her stiffen. She didn't turn as he stepped in, but she could feel his presence, strong and unsettling.
"Elara," he said, voice gentler than usual. "We need to talk."
She turned slowly, arms folded. "About what?"
"About us."
Her heart thudded.
"I haven't been fair to you," he said, stepping closer. "I thought keeping my distance would make things easier. For both of us. But it hasn't."
She stared at him. "Why now? What changed?"
Xander exhaled deeply, running a hand through his hair. "You. You've changed everything. I find myself looking for you when you're not around. Getting angry when someone else makes you smile. Wanting to know what's going on in your head every second of the day."
Elara's chest tightened. "Xander…"
"I don't know what this is," he admitted, his voice raw. "But I know I don't want to lose it."
Elara felt like she was standing at the edge of something dangerous, beautiful, and completely uncertain.
And for once, she didn't want to run.
Later that night, Elara lay in bed, unable to sleep. The conversation had left her reeling. She and Xander had slept in separate rooms since the wedding. But tonight, there was a soft knock at her door.
She sat up. "Yes?"
Xander stepped in, barefoot, wearing grey sweatpants and a dark T-shirt that somehow made him look less like the cold CEO and more like the man she'd caught glimpses of underneath.
"I couldn't sleep," he said.
She swallowed. "Me neither."
They stared at each other for a beat too long.
"Can I stay?" he asked quietly.
Elara nodded slowly. "Okay."
He walked over, slid under the blanket beside her, keeping a careful distance. The silence between them was laced with vulnerability.
"Just sleeping," she murmured.
He chuckled softly. "Just sleeping."
But as the night stretched on, his hand found hers beneath the covers. And neither of them let go.