Elias had built a life out of control. Every decision deliberate, every word measured. He'd learned long ago that emotion was just a doorway—once you let it open, everything you'd locked away came flooding back.
But that morning, control felt like an illusion.
He hadn't slept either. He'd spent the night staring out over the city, replaying the way she'd looked at him when he stopped himself. The hurt, the relief, the confusion—it had all been there in her eyes. And beneath it, something that scared him more than any deal or rival could: faith.
She still believed he was the kind of man who'd protect her.
The lie sat heavy in his chest.
Now, standing in his office, sunlight cutting through glass and shadow, he looked every inch the man the world saw—polished, unflinching, unbothered. But his mind wouldn't stop tracing the memory of her voice, her nearness, the way she'd said this can't go anywhere even while standing too close to him.
He'd meant what he said—if he started, he wouldn't stop. Not with her. Not when she made him forget the rules that kept his empire from crumbling.
A knock broke his thoughts. Sebastian stepped in, holding a tablet.
"Morning," Elias said.
Sebastian's grin was polite and dangerous. "Morning. You look… distracted. Something on your mind?"
Elias didn't look up. "Business."
"That what we're calling it now?"
The tone was casual, but the air shifted. Elias finally met his eyes. "Is there something you want to say?"
Sebastian tilted his head. "Only that people talk. And that your assistant has been the topic of a few interesting conversations lately."
"She's not my assistant."
"Of course not."
The edge in Sebastian's voice was amusement wrapped around warning. Elias knew the game—they'd played it for years. But this time, the stakes were different.
"Handle it," Elias said quietly.
Sebastian raised a brow. "Handle what, exactly?"
"Whatever you think you know. Whatever you think you saw. It ends there."
The other man studied him for a moment, then gave a small, knowing nod. "Understood."
When the door closed, Elias exhaled. He hated that the first thing he thought of was Mara. Hated the idea of her name in anyone else's mouth.
He went to the window, palms pressed against the cool glass. The city below pulsed with its usual indifference.
Power had always come with a price—loyalty, reputation, peace. He'd paid all of it before. But now, for the first time, he wondered if he was about to pay in something rarer: the one part of himself he'd never offered to anyone.
He didn't know what scared him more—the thought of losing her, or the thought of what he might do to keep her.