The storm began just after midnight.
Thunder cracked across the sky, loud enough to rattle the mansion windows. Rain lashed violently against the glass walls of the master suite.
Amelia jolted awake.
For a moment, she didn't remember where she was.
Then lightning illuminated the massive bedroom.
The marble.
The tall ceilings.
The single bed.
Alexander.
Reality settled in.
Another thunderclap shook the room.
The lights flickered once.
Twice.
Then—
Darkness.
Complete.
Her breath caught.
No.
Not now.
The silence after the power cut felt heavier than the storm itself.
She hated storms.
Always had.
As a child, she used to hide in a closet during thunderstorms, counting seconds between lightning and thunder, pretending the noise couldn't reach her.
Another sharp crack split the sky.
Her heart slammed against her ribs.
Calm down.
You're not a child.
Across the bed, Alexander stirred.
"Backup generator should've activated," he muttered.
But it didn't.
The room remained black.
Only faint lightning flashes illuminated their silhouettes.
"I'll check it," he said, sitting up.
She didn't realize she had grabbed his wrist—
Until he stopped moving.
Her fingers were wrapped tightly around him.
She let go instantly.
"Sorry."
Lightning flashed again, briefly revealing her face.
Pale.
Tense.
"You're afraid," he observed quietly.
"It's just loud."
Another thunderclap boomed, closer this time.
She flinched.
His eyes softened slightly in the darkness.
"Stay here," he said.
But when he moved to stand—
Another deafening crash of thunder shook the room.
And without thinking—
She reached for him again.
This time not just his wrist.
She pressed closer.
Instinctively.
Her breathing uneven.
His body went still.
She froze too.
Realizing.
What she had done.
"I— I don't like storms," she admitted quietly.
There was no mockery in his response.
No sarcasm.
Only calm.
"I know."
"You don't know anything about me."
He paused.
"You count seconds between lightning and thunder."
Her heart skipped.
"How—"
"You did it earlier."
She hadn't even realized.
He noticed that?
Another flash lit the room.
Her face inches from his now.
Close.
Too close.
"You observe too much," she whispered.
"It's a habit."
His voice was lower than usual.
Less guarded.
Thunder rolled again, and she instinctively leaned into him.
This time, he didn't hesitate.
His arm wrapped around her.
Firm.
Protective.
Warm.
She stiffened for half a second—
Then melted into the contact.
His hand rested against her back.
Steady.
Grounding.
The storm raged outside.
But inside—
Everything felt quieter.
Safer.
His heartbeat was strong beneath her ear.
Measured.
Controlled.
Unlike hers.
"You're shaking," he murmured.
"It's cold."
"It's not."
She huffed softly.
"Don't ruin this."
A small, unexpected sound escaped him.
Almost a laugh.
She felt it in his chest.
"You're different when you're not pretending," she said quietly.
"So are you."
Silence settled between them.
But it wasn't awkward.
It was charged.
Her fingers lightly gripped the fabric of his shirt.
His hand slowly moved upward—
From her back—
To her shoulder.
Not inappropriate.
Just present.
Just there.
Lightning flashed again.
For a brief second, their faces were illuminated.
Close enough to see the shift in his eyes.
The control slipping.
Just slightly.
She swallowed.
"Alexander."
The way she said his name—
Soft.
Unarmed.
Did something dangerous to him.
His thumb brushed lightly against her shoulder.
Testing.
She didn't pull away.
The storm outside intensified.
Wind howled.
Rain pounded.
But neither of them moved.
Her gaze dropped to his lips.
Just for a second.
That was all it took.
He noticed.
Of course he noticed.
His hand slid to her jaw.
Slowly.
Giving her time to stop him.
She didn't.
Her heart thundered louder than the storm.
He leaned in—
Barely.
Their breaths mingled.
Electric.
Fragile.
This is a mistake.
But neither of them said it.
The space between their lips vanished—
Almost.
Then thunder cracked violently overhead.
The sound startled her.
And reality rushed back in.
She pulled away abruptly.
Breathing hard.
"We can't."
His jaw tightened.
He knew that.
He had always known that.
"This is temporary," she whispered.
"Yes."
The word sounded heavier now.
More complicated.
She shifted slightly away from him.
But he didn't fully release her.
His arm remained around her waist.
Not claiming.
Not demanding.
Just there.
After a long moment, she spoke quietly.
"Thank you."
"For what?"
"For not taking advantage."
His expression darkened slightly.
"I don't take what isn't freely given."
The weight of his words lingered.
Outside, the storm slowly began to calm.
Rain softened.
Thunder faded into distant rumbles.
But inside the room—
The real storm had just begun.
Because now they both knew—
The attraction wasn't imagined.
And next time—
They might not stop.