Zara didn't sleep that night.
No matter how many times she closed her eyes, the scene replayed itself with merciless clarity—Adrian standing in that conference room, his voice firm, his presence unyielding, defending her without hesitation. Not as a boss. Not as part of an agreement.
But as someone who cared.
She rolled onto her side, staring at the faint glow of dawn creeping through her curtains. Her heart thudded uneasily against her ribs.
This wasn't how it was supposed to go.
The rules had been clear. Simple. Safe.
No emotions.
No attachment.
No crossing lines.
Yet somehow, without her noticing when or how, those lines had begun to blur—softening at the edges, losing their sharpness. And now, she wasn't sure she could tell where pretending ended and something dangerously real began.
By the time Zara arrived at the office later that morning, she had convinced herself of one thing: she needed distance.
Professional distance. Emotional distance.
She walked into the building with her shoulders squared, her expression neutral, repeating the mantra silently in her head.
Stick to the rules. Just stick to the rules.
But the universe, it seemed, had other plans.
Adrian was already there.
He stood near the elevators, jacket draped effortlessly over one shoulder, phone pressed to his ear. He looked composed, controlled—every inch the man she had first met.
Except when his eyes lifted and found hers.
The conversation on the phone ended abruptly.
"Zara," he said.
Her name on his lips still did something unsettling to her.
"Good morning," she replied, forcing calm into her voice.
They stepped into the elevator together. The doors slid shut, sealing them into a confined silence that felt far too intimate.
Neither spoke.
The elevator hummed softly as it ascended, the space between them shrinking with every floor. Zara could feel his presence beside her—warm, solid, distracting. She focused on the digital numbers lighting up overhead, refusing to look at him.
"You okay?" Adrian asked quietly.
She hesitated. "I'm fine."
He turned slightly toward her. "You didn't leave right away yesterday."
"I needed air," she said quickly. "And time."
He nodded. "I meant what I said."
She knew exactly what he meant.
"That was… intense," she said carefully.
"It was necessary."
"For you, maybe," Zara countered. "But for me, it complicates things."
The elevator slowed, then stopped abruptly between floors. The lights flickered once before stabilizing.
Zara frowned. "Did it just—?"
The elevator jolted slightly, then went still.
A soft chime echoed, followed by silence.
Adrian exhaled. "Looks like we're stuck."
Her pulse quickened. Of all the moments, of all the places—
"Maintenance will get it moving soon," he added, calm as ever. "This building's backup systems are reliable."
Zara nodded, though her unease had little to do with the elevator and everything to do with being trapped alone with him.
In close quarters.
With everything unsaid hanging between them.
Minutes passed.
The silence grew heavier.
"You've been avoiding me," Adrian said at last.
Zara stiffened. "I haven't."
"You haven't looked at me once," he replied gently.
She sighed, finally turning to face him. "Because if I do, we'll have a conversation we shouldn't be having."
His gaze softened. "Why shouldn't we?"
"Because this was supposed to be simple," she said, frustration slipping into her voice. "A solution to a problem. Nothing more."
"And now?" he asked.
"And now," she said quietly, "you defended me in front of people who were ready to tear me down. You didn't have to. And I can't pretend it didn't mean something."
Adrian studied her, his expression unreadable.
"I won't apologize for that," he said.
"I'm not asking you to," Zara replied. "I'm asking you to remember why we started this."
"I remember," he said. "Do you?"
Her breath caught.
"Yes," she said, though it felt like a lie even to her own ears.
"Then why does it feel like you're pulling away?" he asked.
"Because if I don't," she whispered, "I might fall."
The words hung between them, fragile and terrifying.
Adrian stepped closer, slowly, as if giving her every chance to retreat.
"You won't fall alone," he said.
"That's exactly the problem," Zara replied, her voice trembling.
She should have moved. Should have taken a step back, reinforced the invisible boundary separating them.
Instead, she stayed.
Adrian reached out, hesitating just inches from her face, giving her time—choice.
"Tell me to stop," he murmured.
She opened her mouth.
No sound came out.
That was all the permission he needed.
His fingers brushed her cheek, gentle and deliberate. The touch sent a shock through her system, every nerve ending lighting up at once. She inhaled sharply, her hands curling into fists at her sides.
"This breaks the rules," she whispered.
"So did yesterday," he replied softly.
His thumb traced along her jaw, tilting her face upward. Zara's heart pounded so loudly she was sure he could hear it.
"Adrian…"
He kissed her.
Not rushed. Not desperate.
Slow.
Intentional.
As if he wanted her to feel every second of it.
The world narrowed to that moment—the warmth of his lips, the faint scent of his cologne, the way her body leaned into his without conscious thought. Her hands rose on their own, gripping his jacket as if anchoring herself.
When they finally parted, both of them were breathless.
"This can't keep happening," Zara said, even as she stayed close.
"I know," Adrian replied, resting his forehead against hers.
The elevator jolted suddenly, lights flickering again as it resumed its ascent.
They sprang apart, reality crashing back in.
When the doors opened on their floor moments later, they stepped out in silence, the kiss echoing louder than any words.
The rest of the day passed in a blur.
Meetings. Emails. Deadlines.
Zara functioned on autopilot, hyperaware of Adrian's presence even when he wasn't in the room. Every glance felt loaded. Every accidental brush of hands sent sparks racing through her.
By evening, exhaustion weighed heavily on her.
As she packed up to leave, her phone buzzed.
Adrian: Can we talk?
Her fingers hovered over the screen.
She should say no.
She should go home.
Instead, she typed:
Zara: Where?
Minutes later, she stood outside his apartment building, nerves fluttering uncontrollably.
This was dangerous.
She knew it.
Adrian opened the door, his expression serious, conflicted.
"You came," he said.
"I shouldn't have," she replied honestly.
"But you did."
She stepped inside.
The apartment was quiet, dimly lit, the city lights casting long shadows across the room. The intimacy of the space made her acutely aware of how alone they were.
"This has gone too far," Zara said, breaking the silence. "We're breaking every rule we set."
"Yes," Adrian agreed. "We are."
"And you don't seem bothered by that."
"I am," he said. "I just don't regret it."
Her chest tightened.
"That scares me," she admitted.
"It scares me too," he said softly. "But pretending nothing is happening scares me more."
He took a step toward her. "I don't know when it changed. I just know that I can't keep acting like you're just part of a plan."
Zara's eyes burned. "We built this on lies."
"Then let's stop lying," he said.
The words were simple.
Powerful.
Terrifying.
She shook her head. "It's not that easy."
"I know," he replied. "But it's honest."
Silence stretched between them, thick with possibility.
Zara closed her eyes.
When she opened them, she stepped forward.
This time, she kissed him.
Harder. Deeper.
Whatever restraint they had left shattered completely.
Rules were forgotten. Lines erased.
And as Adrian pulled her close, Zara realized something she could no longer deny—
This wasn't fake anymore.
And there would be consequences.
Big ones.