The silence in the car was louder than any argument they could've had.
The doors shut. The driver pulled off.
Ana sat stiffly, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the city lights blurring past the glass.
Christian finally spoke.
"You didn't have to come tonight."
Her head turned, sharp and immediate. "Excuse me?"
He leaned back, loosening his collar like the suit was suffocating. "I mean it. I wouldn't have blamed you."
Ana's voice was ice. "Then why did you ask?"
He looked at her.
And for once… he didn't have a perfect answer.
"I don't know," he admitted. "Maybe because I wanted her to see you. To see us."
Ana blinked, caught off guard.
Christian Blake didn't say things like that.
Not unless they were calculated.
But this wasn't math. This wasn't business.
This felt like a crack in his armor.
🚖 Inside the Car – Closer Than Before
She turned fully toward him now, eyes narrowed. "What exactly is 'us,' Christian? Because I'm tired of performing for people who don't even know my name. Tired of pretending I don't feel anything."
His gaze locked with hers. "Do you?"
Her breath hitched.
Christian leaned closer. The leather seat between them suddenly felt too narrow. Too warm.
"I saw you tonight," he said quietly. "Not the dress. Not the smile. You."
Ana didn't speak.
Because for the first time… she believed him.
He reached out—just a touch—fingers brushing her wrist.
Not pulling.
Just asking.
She didn't pull away.
But she didn't give in either.
"I don't know what you're doing to me," she whispered.
Christian's voice was low. Honest. "Neither do I."
The car slowed in front of the penthouse.
Neither moved.
Not yet.
Not with the weight of everything hanging between them.
Then Ana slipped her wrist from his grasp, soft and slow.
"I'll see you upstairs," she said, voice unreadable.
She stepped out, heels clicking against the curb.
Christian watched her walk into the building—
And for the first time…
He didn't feel in control.
He felt close.
Too close.
To be continued…