The study lights turned off at 6:00 AM.
Zaid Voss did not look tired.
He never did.
He entered the master suite without knocking.
Aansi was standing near the mirror, adjusting the pleats of her saree.
She stiffened at the sound of the door.
"You moved out," she said without turning.
"I relocated."
"Same thing."
"Not quite."
He walked past her — close enough that the faint scent of his cologne brushed her senses — and picked up his watch from the dresser.
Their reflections met in the mirror.
"You look better when you're angry," he said calmly.
She ignored that.
"You said breathe freely," she replied. "So I am."
"Good."
His fingers brushed lightly against her butt as he reached for a cufflink beside her hand.
Not necessary.
Deliberate.
She pulled back instantly.
He noticed.
Of course he did.
"You're still reacting," he observed.
"You're still hovering."
A faint smirk touched his lips.
"I don't hover."
He stepped closer behind her.
Touching her shoulders and adjusting her plates.
Then dipped face in the crook her neck, barely touching but— Close enough that her breath changed.
He leaned slightly toward her ear — not enough to cross a line, but enough to blur it.
"If I intended to cross a boundary," he murmured, "you would know."
Her pulse jumped.
"Clause fourteen," she said firmly.
"I don't care."
"You have to."
Silence.
His eyes darkened slightly at that.
Interesting.
He straightened slowly.
"Your confidence is improving," he said.
"It's called survival."
He moved around her, stopping directly in front of her now.
Close.
Measured.
"You think sleeping downstairs means distance?" he asked quietly.
"It should."
"It doesn't."
His gaze dropped briefly to her lips — not lustful, not soft — assessing.
Then back to her eyes.
"You are still my wife," he said. "And proximity is not optional."
She folded her arms.
"Possession again?"
"Territory," he corrected.
Later That Evening
A corporate dinner.
Zaid remained controlled, composed, untouchable.
Until a young investor held Aansi's hand a second too long while greeting her.
Zaid's reaction was immediate.
He stepped between them — smooth, calculated — placing his hand at her waist.
Firm.
Secure.
Public.
The investor withdrew instantly.
Zaid didn't look at him.
Only said calmly:
"She doesn't entertain extended introductions."
The message was received.
When they stepped aside, she turned to him.
"You said distance."
He leaned slightly closer.
"That wasn't distance."
His thumb pressed slightly at her waist before withdrawing.
Intentional.
She stepped away.
"You enjoy provoking me."
"I enjoy reactions."
"You won't get one."
His eyes sharpened faintly.
"Oh, I already am."
He's annoying.
Night
He did not return to the master bedroom.
But just before midnight—
the door opened briefly.
She looked up from the bed.
He stood in the doorway.
Silhouetted.
Watching.
"Why are you here?" she asked.
"To check security."
"That's not your job."
"It is when the environment shifts."
He stepped inside.
Walked to the window.
Then, unexpectedly, turned toward her.
"You were uncomfortable tonight."
"I handled it."
"I know."
Silence.
He moved closer to the bed.
Not touching.
Just standing near enough that the air felt charged again.
"You think I flirt," he said calmly.
"You do."
"I assess."
Her breath tightened.
"You lean too close."
"And you don't step away fast enough."
That hit.
Her chin lifted.
"Don't mistake composure for consent."
A faint shadow of a smile.
"Good," he said. "Don't mistake restraint for weakness."
"You better fuck off."
"You mean I better fuck you?"
Her cheeks heating.
"Oh I'll. soon."
"I told you to get lost."
"But I heard fuck off."
She glared. Hard.
He grinned.
Then he turned and left the room.
Again.