Chapter 19 – Gravity Has a Name
Auri did everything right.
She rebuilt her routine, buried herself in schedules, color-coded spreadsheets, meetings, and reminders.
She kept conversations with Adrian strictly professional… well—mostly. His flirting still happened, but she learned how to dodge it with soft laughs and quick excuses.
And she avoided Dante like he was fire.
Because he was.
But fate apparently didn't get the memo.
Morning: The Elevator Trap
Auri hurried toward the elevator, coffee in one hand, tablet in the other. She finally had a good morning—no drama, no tension, no—
Ding.
The doors slid open.
Her soul left her body.
Dante.
Alone.
Leaning casually against the mirrored wall. Dark suit. Hands in pockets. Eyes instantly snapping to her.
Her breath stopped.
His jaw clenched.
Before she could step back, the doors started to close—
He pressed "OPEN."
"Auri," he said lowly.
She had no choice but to enter.
She faced forward, pretending the buttons were the most fascinating thing on earth. The air felt thick enough to choke on. She could feel him staring at her like he was trying to memorize every inch of her.
"You're avoiding me," Dante murmured.
"No," she lied.
"You are."
His voice dropped, deeper. "Why?"
She swallowed. "You're engaged, Dante. Stop making this complicated."
"Everything became complicated the moment you walked into my life," he shot back.
The elevator chimed.
She practically jumped out the moment it opened, escaping like the building was on fire.
But the heat followed her.
His gaze burned into her until the doors closed again.
Later: The Meeting She Didn't Expect
She managed a few peaceful hours before Adrian called her into an unexpected joint conference—a quick review with a partnering corporation.
Auri entered the meeting room…
…and froze.
Of course.
Dante.
Sitting at the head of the table, flipping through documents like he owned the room.
Technically, he did.
Her pulse hammered.
Adrian greeted him politely. Dante returned a smirk—not at Adrian, but at her.
Auri sat between them.
Brilliant decision? Absolutely not. But the only chair left.
As the presentation started, Dante said nothing. He simply listened—eyes flicking toward her every few minutes like he couldn't help it.
When she shifted in her seat, his gaze followed her legs.
When she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his jaw flexed.
When Adrian complimented her work, Dante's pen snapped in half.
The tension was insane.
Electric.
Unspoken.
Wrong.
And she hated—
Hated—
that part of her still wanted to look back at him.
Afternoon: The Accidental Encounter
She waited until lunch break, deciding to eat outside the office to clear her mind. She wasn't walking five seconds out the main door when—
"Auri."
She shut her eyes.
Please, not now.
But when she turned, Dante was standing there, hands in pockets, hair slightly messy from the wind, expression soft but frustrated.
"You keep running," he said quietly. "I keep finding you."
"That's not romantic," she muttered. "That's… inconvenient."
His lips twitched—almost a smile.
"Then stop running."
"I can't," she said firmly. "Olivia. Your engagement. My work. Adrian. Everything is a mess."
Dante stepped closer.
"You think I care about the engagement?"
"You should."
"I only care about—"
"Don't say it."
Her voice shook.
He studied her face, eyes stormy but gentle. "Then just tell me to leave. Tell me you don't want me in your life."
Auri opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
She couldn't say it.
She wished she could.
But lying to him felt impossible.
Her silence was all the answer he needed.
He exhaled shakily, brushing a hand through his hair—a gesture she knew he only did when he was trying desperately to hold himself back.
"We're not done, Auri."
"Yes, we are," she insisted. "We have to be."
Dante shook his head.
"You and I…"
His voice was almost a whisper.
"There's no version of this world where I stop wanting you."
Her heart slammed painfully.
She turned away, forcing her steps to move forward even though her knees trembled.
But she could feel him behind her—
like gravity.
Pulling.
Always pulling.
No matter how far she went.