Kian stepped deeper into the apartment, the door clicking shut behind him. His presence filled the room just like a storm long-held at bay. He moved slowly, his eyes scanning the space….the wine glass on the table, the soft golden robe she wore tied loosely at her waist, the scent of jasmine in the air, and the way the lights showered a soft glow across the living room.
Lianna stood still, arms crossed. Calm on the surface, but her heartbeat was anything but.
"You don't get to show up like this," she said, her voice quiet but firm.
Kian met her eyes. "Then why did you let me in?"
She didn't answer.
Silence crackled between them.
Then it all snapped.
"You let her be beside you. You let her fill the silence between us," she said, voice rising. "You chose distance. You chose Cassandra."
"I called off the engagement, Lianna." He says calmly.
"Was she the reason why you gave me those divorce papers?"
Kian's jaw clenched. "You think that was a choice? I've been dying every day since you left. I didn't know how to fix it. I didn't know how to reach you."
"You didn't even try!" she shot back, voice cracking with emotion. "You let me go like I was disposable."
He moved closer. The air tightened.
"You think I don't think about you every damn night?" he whispered. "You think I don't remember how you take your tea? How you hum when you're brushing your hair? You think I can sleep in that penthouse without imagining you in every room?"
She shook her head, breath trembling. "You say all this now. But it doesn't change the fact that you let me walk out that door."
Kian's voice dropped. "I never stopped being yours."
He stepped forward, closing the last bit of space between them. She didn't move. Didn't breathe.
His hand came up slowly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. His thumb lingered against her cheek, his breath mingling with hers.
Then….he kissed her.
It wasn't rushed. It wasn't desperate. It was slow. Full of everything he never said.
She didn't pull back.
Instead, she leaned in.
The kiss deepened, fierce and tender all at once. His hands tangled in her hair. Her robe slipped slightly off her shoulder. She gasped softly into his mouth as he wrapped his arms around her, lifting her effortlessly into him.
He carried her to the couch, the soft silk of her robe melting away as his lips traced the edge of her collarbone. Her hands moved with urgency….buttons undone, clothes cast aside. Their bodies pressed together like something long-denied.
It was more than lust.
It was memory. Grief. Longing. The ache of what was lost….and what still burned, fiercely alive.
They made love as if they were unraveling all the months apart….wordlessly, desperately, tenderly.
And when it was over, the room was quiet again.
Except for their breaths.
He lay beside her, their fingers tangled, skin against skin.
No promises.
No regrets.
Just a truth neither could deny anymore.
Outside the apartment, Damian's car slows to a stop.
And he looks up at her window.
—
Morning light spills across .
Lianna wakes up slowly, blinking against the soft glow seeping through her curtains. Her hand reaches to the other side of the couch—
It's cold.
Empty.
No sign of Kian.
Just the faint scent of his cologne lingering in the air…..smoky, expensive, unmistakably him.
She sighs, rubbing her face with both hands, lips dry. A whisper of last night rushes back in….the kiss, the confession, the heat, the ache.
She pushes off the blanket, walks barefoot to the bathroom, and turns on the shower. Water runs over her skin, but nothing rinses off the confusion.
She stares at herself in the mirror, towel around her body, hair damp.
What have you done?
She doesn't have an answer.
Then, a knock.
She tenses. Breath held. Then exhales when she hears the familiar voice through the door:
"Lianna. It's me."
She opens it.
Damian stands there in a tailored charcoal gray suit, holding a takeout tray…croissants, green juice, and fresh coffee.
Chic. Thoughtful. Soft smile.
"I thought I'd surprise you. Didn't want you skipping breakfast again," he says, stepping inside with ease.
She forces a smile, grateful but distracted. "You didn't have to."
"I wanted to." He glances around. "You okay?"
"Yeah. Just… tired."
He sets the tray on the table, then notices her robe….the same silk one from the night before…..draped over the back of the chair.
He pauses.
"Did someone come over last night?"
His voice is light, casual. But his eyes are sharp.
She blinks. Just a second too long.
Then lies.
"No. Just me."
He nods. Says nothing.
They eat. Talk. Laugh briefly about something on the news. But the tension never fully fades.
He kisses her cheek on his way out, hands still warm against her waist.
She watches him go with a twist in her chest.
But as Damian steps out of the building, something catches his eye.
Across the street.
Reflected in the tinted glass of her door….
Kian's black car. Parked. Still. Watching.
Damian's smile drops.
His jaw tightens.
He saw it.
And he understands.
——
Kian is spiraling.
He's missing board meetings, ignoring his father's calls, and walking through the world like a man possessed.
He's not thinking clearly.
He's thinking about her.
He starts showing up everywhere….
Her favorite café, a tucked-away spot in Mexico where the lattes come with art and jazz hums softly in the background. She always sits by the window, always orders oat milk, always takes her coffee black.
Kian sits at a table across the room. Watching. Waiting. Pretending.
Lianna walks in and freezes when she sees him.
"What are you doing here?" she asks, her voice sharp but her heart skipping.
Kian looks up with that devastating gaze…dark eyes, collared shirt slightly open at the neck, sleeves rolled just enough to reveal the edge of a luxury watch. His hair tousled, cologne faint but unforgettable.
"Coincidence," he says with a slow smile.
Then, quieter:
"Or maybe I'm just where I want to be."
She doesn't respond. But her fingers tremble slightly as she sips her coffee.
And then….more sightings.
He's at her press event. Watching from the back, blending in with the crowd in a tailored navy suit that somehow makes him look even more dangerous.
**Photos leak. Whispers grow. Headlines ignite:
"Are Kian Vale and Lianna Serein Reconnecting?"
"Old Flames Spark?"
Their names start trending.
Paparazzi shots flood the internet…,eyes lingering, moments too intimate to ignore.
Cassandra sees it.
She's at a luxury brand event, standing on a red carpet when a reporter shoves a phone in her face:
"Cassandra, any comment on these photos of Kian and Lianna?"
The image hits her like a slap…..Kian watching Lianna like she's his only thought. The world blurs.
"Oh my god—" she gasps, stepping back.
Her mascara smears as tears fall. "I need to leave," she chokes out.
She turns and rushes away from flashing cameras, nearly tripping in her heels.
Security follows.
So do the headlines.
Cassandra locks herself in her car, burying her face into a silk handkerchief.
The same photo keeps popping up on her phone screen no matter how many times she throws it onto the seat.
She presses her head against the pillow, whispering through sobs,
"Why ? Why does it still hurt like this?"
Later that week.
A high-rise conference center. Post-meeting.
Lianna walks briskly down a hallway in heels, papers in her hand, hair tucked behind one ear….composed.
Then….Kian steps out from nowhere.
He's in a slate-gray suit, black shirt open at the collar, eyes locked on her like she's the only thing he sees. His jaw is sharp, his hair messy, his mouth slightly parted like he might say something reckless…..and mean it.
She stops.
"What are you doing?" she whispers, heart pounding.
He steps closer.
"Tell me to stop," he murmurs, gaze intense, "and I'll disappear."
Lianna stares at him. Her breath catches.
"…I don't know if I want you to," she confesses, barely a whisper..
The air between them snapped.
He doesn't wait.
He pulls her in.
The kiss is hungry, searing, filled with everything unsaid. His hand cups the back of her neck, her fingers grip his lapel. She kisses him back like she's drowning and he's the only air.
It's passion. It's history. It's dangerous.
Flash.
Another flash.
Paparazzi cameras….catching everything….through the glass wall of the elevator behind them.
And within minutes…
It's everywhere.