The storm had passed, but its echo lingered.
Sunlight filtered through the tall windows of Dominic Wolfe's penthouse, casting soft gold over the marble floors. The rain-slicked city shimmered below like it, too, had just woken from something heavy. Inside, the silence between Dominic and Adair remained unbroken—tentative, almost reverent.
Adair stood barefoot in the kitchen, wearing one of Dominic's shirts. It hung off her shoulders, oversized and soft, brushing against her thighs with every movement. She stirred her coffee absently, her thoughts miles away.
Dominic leaned against the doorframe, watching her. There was something unfamiliar in her quiet—something vulnerable. The woman who had walked into his office months ago, fiery and unapologetic, was still there—but tonight, there was a crack in her armor. One he hadn't caused, but one he couldn't ignore either.
"I didn't sleep," she said finally, without looking at him.
He crossed the space between them slowly. "I know."
Adair turned, and for once, there was no mask on her face. "You think I'm reckless, don't you?"
"No," Dominic said. "I think you're brave. And that scares the hell out of me."
A breath caught in her throat. She wasn't used to him being this open. She wasn't used to needing it.
"Last night, when I walked out—" she began.
"You don't have to explain."
"But I want to." Her voice faltered. "I was afraid. Not of you… of what this means. Of what you make me feel."
Dominic reached for her hand. "Adair, I've spent years controlling everything in my life—building walls, making rules. But you walk into my life, and none of it works anymore."
She looked up at him, eyes wide, lips parted. "Then what do we do now?"
"We stop pretending this is nothing," he said, voice low. "We stop running."
He pulled her gently into his arms. She went without resistance, resting her head against his chest. For the first time in days, something settled between them. Not perfect, not fully healed—but real.
The moment stretched, warm and quiet.
Then her phone buzzed.
She pulled away reluctantly and glanced at the screen. Her expression shifted, all softness replaced by steel.
Dominic saw it too. "What is it?"
"My sister," Adair said, already moving. "There's a problem at the foundation."
He nodded, already slipping into his suit jacket. "I'll come with you."
"You don't have to—"
"I want to."
For once, she didn't argue. They walked out together, side by side—two people still learning how to trust, how to hold on without breaking, how to love like wildfire without burning it all down.