The hallway swallowed him.
Quiet.
Controlled.
Like nothing had happened.
⸻
Marco didn't look back.
Didn't slow.
Didn't acknowledge the tension he had just left behind.
⸻
By the time he stepped into his study—
the door closed behind him with a soft click.
⸻
Silence.
⸻
The room was dim.
Low light.
Dark wood.
Order.
⸻
Everything exactly where it belonged.
⸻
He set the glass down.
Slowly.
⸻
Took another draw from the cigar.
Held it.
⸻
Then exhaled.
⸻
The smoke curled upward.
Unbothered.
⸻
His jaw tightened slightly.
⸻
Feisty.
⸻
The word sat in his head for a second.
⸻
Then—
a quiet exhale.
Almost a laugh.
⸻
"Of course."
⸻
Because it was never the quiet ones.
Never the ones who stayed agreeable.
⸻
She pushed back.
⸻
And for some reason—
⸻
his gaze dropped briefly—
⸻
he never walked away from it.
⸻
The door slammed open.
⸻
The sound cut through the room—
sharp.
Immediate.
⸻
Marco didn't turn right away.
⸻
A second.
Two.
⸻
Then—
⸻
glass shattered.
⸻
The sharp crack echoed across the room.
Fragments scattering across the floor.
⸻
That got his attention.
⸻
He turned.
⸻
Amelia stood just inside the doorway.
Chest rising.
Eyes blazing.
⸻
A crystal glass lay broken near her feet.
⸻
She didn't look down.
Didn't apologize.
Didn't hesitate.
⸻
"You don't walk away from me like that."
⸻
Marco's gaze dropped briefly to the shattered glass.
⸻
Then back to her.
⸻
Unhurried.
⸻
Unmoved.
⸻
His gaze flicked once more—
to her hand.
⸻
A thin line of red traced across her palm.
⸻
She looked at it.
Once.
⸻
Then dragged her thumb across it—
smearing it.
⸻
Like it didn't matter.
⸻
Then she walked toward him.
⸻
No pause.
No hesitation.
⸻
"You don't get to do that."
⸻
Her voice had dropped now.
Lower.
Sharper.
⸻
"You don't get to just stand there, not say anything, and expect that to end it."
⸻
Silence.
⸻
She didn't stop.
⸻
"You don't answer."
⸻
A step closer.
⸻
"You don't explain."
⸻
Another.
⸻
"You just decide when something is over and walk away."
⸻
Her eyes locked on his.
⸻
"I'm not done."
⸻
Nothing.
⸻
Her breath came out sharper.
⸻
"No—look at me."
⸻
Still nothing.
⸻
That did it.
⸻
She closed the distance completely—
⸻
and shoved him.
⸻
Not enough to move him.
⸻
But enough to land.
⸻
"I'm talking to you."
⸻
The room went still.
⸻
Marco didn't react.
⸻
Didn't step back.
⸻
His gaze dropped again—
to her hand.
⸻
The blood had deepened now.
⸻
Then back to her.
⸻
Steadier this time.
⸻
"You're bleeding."
⸻
"I don't care."
⸻
Immediate.
⸻
She stepped even closer.
⸻
"I asked you a question."
⸻
Her voice didn't shake.
⸻
But there was heat in it now.
Real.
⸻
Silence.
⸻
Marco moved.
⸻
Not away.
⸻
Forward.
⸻
Closing what was left of the space between them.
⸻
Amelia didn't step back.
⸻
Didn't even think about it.
⸻
Even as he stopped in front of her—
close enough that she could feel it.
⸻
The shift.
The pressure.
The difference.
⸻
His hand came up.
⸻
Not fast.
Not rough.
⸻
He caught her wrist.
⸻
Turned her hand slightly.
⸻
The cut opened again.
Fresh.
⸻
His grip tightened—
just enough.
⸻
"Careless."
⸻
The word came low.
Measured.
⸻
Her breath hitched—
just once—
⸻
but she didn't pull away.
⸻
"I didn't come here for that."
⸻
Sharp.
⸻
"I came here for answers."
⸻
A beat.
⸻
Marco let her go.
⸻
Slowly.
⸻
But he didn't step back.
⸻
Didn't give her space.
⸻
If anything—
he leaned in.
⸻
Closer.
⸻
Too close.
⸻
His gaze dropped.
⸻
Not to her face.
⸻
To the dress.
⸻
The silk.
⸻
The way it sat against her.
⸻
Then back to her eyes.
⸻
Slow.
Deliberate.
⸻
"You keep trying my patience."
⸻
The words settled between them.
⸻
Heavy.
⸻
Her brows pulled slightly.
⸻
Confusion—
cutting through the anger.
⸻
"What does that have to do with anything?"
⸻
That—
⸻
was when something shifted.
⸻
Not anger.
⸻
Something quieter.
More dangerous.
⸻
Marco lifted his hand.
⸻
This time—
to her hair.
⸻
He ran his fingers through it.
⸻
Slow.
Controlled.
⸻
Not rough.
⸻
But not soft either.
⸻
Just enough to feel it.
⸻
Just enough to remind her—
how close he was.
⸻
Her breath caught.
⸻
Just once.
⸻
But she didn't step back.
⸻
Didn't break.
⸻
His voice dropped.
Lower now.
⸻
"You know I can only touch you when the time comes."
⸻
A pause.
⸻
His gaze held hers.
⸻
"And with your permission."
⸻
The words landed—
unexpected.
⸻
Unsettling.
⸻
Then—
just as easily—
⸻
he pulled back.
⸻
Distance returning.
⸻
Like it had never happened.
⸻
"Can you not see the dress you have on."
⸻
Her chest tightened.
⸻
"I said tomorrow."
⸻
A pause.
⸻
His gaze didn't leave hers.
⸻
"We're going back to New York."
⸻
Silence.
⸻
Heavy.
⸻
Final.