The day dragged like a wound that wouldn't close. Meetings blurred, voices became noise. Every contract, every figure on a page felt small next to the one thing he couldn't control.
By late afternoon, Elias dismissed his assistant and locked the door. The quiet pressed in. He loosened his tie, crossed to the bar, and poured a drink he didn't want. The glass stayed untouched on the counter.
He needed to think. Instead, he saw her. The tilt of her head, the sharpness in her voice when she tried to sound indifferent. The way she said it didn't happen as if denial could rewrite what was already burning between them.
A chime from his phone.A message: We need to talk. — S.V.
He almost ignored it. Then the next line appeared.Someone's been asking about Mara. Not just gossip. Digging.
The glass found the floor before he realized he'd dropped it.
He was out the door a minute later, storm held behind a mask of calm. Down in the garage, rain pooled beneath the lights. His driver started to rise, but Elias waved him off and took the wheel himself.
The city blurred past in streaks of grey and neon. He didn't know where he was going until the streets began to thin, until he saw the soft glow of the café near her apartment—the one she'd once mentioned without meaning to.
He parked across the street. Watched through the window.
She was there, tucked in a corner with a book she wasn't reading. The rest of the world moved around her: laughter, coffee cups, normal life.
For a moment he let himself just look. The guilt, the want, the fear—everything tangled until it became something almost peaceful. Then his phone vibrated again.
They know she was at the gala with you. Find a way to fix it.
He killed the screen. The rain started again, hard and sudden.
Elias leaned back against the seat, staring up at the lights bleeding down the windshield. He couldn't step inside; being seen with her now would feed the fire. But leaving her alone felt worse.
He stayed until the café closed, until she pulled her coat tight and disappeared into the dark street. Only then did he start the car.
Power was supposed to mean control. Yet here he was—watching, waiting, protecting from a distance.
He drove until the rain thinned to mist, until the city fell behind him. Somewhere past the edge of reason, he realized this wasn't about business anymore.
It hadn't been for a long time.