Those words still hung in the air.
I'm yours tonight.
And because of them, I knew—this night was the most dangerous test yet. I didn't move. Didn't lean in. Didn't pull away. My chest rose and fell too fast, my body not yet agreeing with what my mind had just unleashed.
Alaric was still there. Too close. Too real. His presence filled my small room like a storm held right on the brink of breaking.
His gaze dropped slowly from my eyes to my lips—then stopped, as if drawing an invisible line he didn't dare cross.
"Anna," he said at last, his voice lower than before. More serious. "Listen to me."
That tone made my heart sink. Not the voice of a man about to take. But of one who knew a single misstep could shatter everything.
"We can't…" He paused, drawing a long breath. "Not like this."
I blinked. The words cut deeper than I expected. "You said you were mine."
He closed his eyes for a beat. His jaw tightened. "And that's the problem."
He stepped back half a pace—the smallest distance, but enough to let air rush back into my lungs. "I didn't come here to… do something we can't take back."
"Then why did you come?" I asked softly.
Alaric opened his eyes. Met mine straight on. No evasion. No lies. "Because I needed to know if you'd stop me."
The honesty silenced me. "I've been holding back too long," he went on. "And I needed to know… if I'm fighting this alone."
I swallowed. "And now?"
"Now I know I'm not." A faint smile ghosted his lips—not light, not easy. "And that makes it far more dangerous.
"I slid off the bed, standing before him. My hands balled at my sides, fighting the urge to reach out again. "If you know it's dangerous… why are you still here?"
Because if he answered honestly, I wasn't sure I could hold on.
Alaric lifted one hand—stopping in midair, inches from my face. "Because part of me is selfish," he murmured.
"The part that wants to remember what it feels like to be this close to you… with no one knowing."
Our breaths mingled. I could feel his heat, steady but heavy.
"And the other part?" I asked.
He gave a bitter smile. "The other part knows I can't stay."
Silence fell again. Thick. Laden with wrong choices.
I let out a small laugh—nervous, almost broken. "You talk like you're the one in control."
Alaric's gaze darkened. "No. I'm just the one most terrified of losing it."
The words pinned me. Deep.
Before I could respond, faint footsteps echoed down the hall. Distant, but real enough to make Alaric's body go rigid.
Evelyn.
He retreated two steps in an instant, his posture snapping back—controlled, closed off, the husband he was supposed to be.
He glanced at the door, then back at me. That final look wasn't heat. Wasn't shadow. It was warning.
"We have to stop," he said fast, almost soundless. "Now."
I nodded, heart hammering.
He gripped the handle, then paused. Didn't turn. "But don't misunderstand."
His fingers tightened. "This isn't because I don't want you." The door clicked open. Hall light spilled in. "It's because I want you too much."
And before I could speak—he was gone.
I stood there long after. Too long. Until the footsteps faded and the house sank back into silence.
I sank onto the bed's edge, staring at the closed door, pulse still racing like I'd barely escaped something fatal.
This wasn't just attraction.
Wasn't a late-night temptation.
This demanded more than courage. And as I finally lay back, staring at the ceiling, one truth burned clear: Alaric Devano wouldn't back down. And I… had stopped hoping he would.
~~~
Morning came too soon. Sunlight sliced through the curtain gap, hitting my eyes—too bright for a head still tangled in last night's wreckage.
I woke with shallow breaths, heart pounding as if Alaric still loomed at my bedside.
But the room was empty. Quiet. Safe—at least on the surface.
I sat up slowly, smoothing my hair, trying to remember how to breathe like someone who hadn't nearly crossed an irreversible line.
Footsteps sounded from downstairs. Coffee aroma followed. Evelyn was up. Which meant… Alaric too. My stomach knotted.
It took longer than usual to get ready. I picked clothes that weren't too thin, not too tight—as if fabric could be armor. When I finally descended, the kitchen felt… normal. Too normal.
Evelyn stood by the table in pale silk pajamas, hair loosely tied. She smiled at me. "Morning, Anna. Sleep well?"
Simple question. But my throat went dry.
"Well enough," I said. Not a lie. Not fully true.
Alaric stood at the counter, back to me. White shirt. Sleeves neatly rolled. Looked like a man who'd never lost control.
When he turned—our eyes met. A split second. Enough to tense every muscle.
No heat in his gaze this morning. No night shadows. Just distance. Cold. Controlled. Professional.
And somehow… that hurt more. "Morning," he said curtly.
As if he'd never knelt before me. As if those lips had never brushed mine. I nodded, sat. The space between us was safe. Too safe.
Evelyn poured coffee, chattering about the day—meetings, business lunch, dinner with Alaric's clients. I listened, stirring untouched coffee.
Alaric spoke little. Answered when asked. Voice even. Shoulders relaxed. The perfect man. The perfect liar.
When Evelyn stepped to the pantry, Alaric finally glanced my way. Quick. Careful. But this time… something else.
Warning.
His hand moved—subtle, almost invisible—tapping the counter once. A small signal. I understood.
Keep distance. I looked down. Nodded faintly.
Evelyn returned, sliding between us. "Oh, Anna," she said brightly. "I might be home late tonight. You won't mind being alone, right?"
My pulse spiked. I opened my mouth, but Alaric beat me. "I'll be home early," he said flatly. "Documents to finish here."
I shot him a sharp look. Evelyn beamed. "Perfect. Anna won't be alone."
Alaric didn't meet my eyes. "Of course." The words landed like promise—or threat.
After breakfast, Evelyn left first. A quick kiss to Alaric's cheek, grabbed her bag, waved goodbye. The front door shut too loud in my ears.
Silence.
I stood to leave, but Alaric's voice stopped me.
"Don't go." Two words. Low. Firm. I froze.
"Sit," he added.
I obeyed. Pulse racing again. Alaric didn't close in. Kept safe distance, hands in pockets. "What happened last night," he said quietly, "can't repeat in daylight."
I lifted my chin. "I haven't done anything."
"I know." His gaze dipped, then rose. "It's not about behavior. It's about… what shows."
Silence.
"Evelyn isn't stupid," he went on. "One slip, and it destroys everything."
"We?" I whispered.
He held my stare too long. "Yes. We."
A pause. Tense. Fragile.
"I don't regret it," I said finally.
Alaric shut his eyes briefly. "That's what scares me."
He stepped closer—once. Twice. Still distant, but near enough to unsteady my breath.
"Starting today," he said, voice low and ironclad, "we pretend nothing's wrong."
I met his eyes. "And at night?"
His jaw set. "Night… we'll talk later."
He turned, grabbed his jacket. But paused at the door. "Anna," without looking back. "Don't misunderstand. This control isn't because I stopped wanting you."
The door opened. "It's me trying to survive."
It shut.
And I stood there, chest tight with one crushing realization: pretending nothing existed would be far more dangerous than admitting it all.