That day unfolded too neatly for the chaos raging in my head.
After Alaric left, the house felt bigger—emptier. I spent the morning drifting from room to room without purpose, my body searching for something I wasn't allowed to find. Every small sound made me turn. Every shadow in the glass made me think he'd come back.
He hadn't.
And that's why I felt him everywhere.
My phone buzzed at noon. Evelyn's name lit the screen.
> Business lunch running late. Stay home. Don't forget to eat.
I texted back briefly. Locked the screen. Exhaled. An hour later, the front door clicked open.
Alaric.
He entered silently, jacket draped over one arm, tie already gone. His face stayed calm, but his shoulders carried tension he hadn't fully shaken.
"Have you eaten?" Flat tone.
"Not yet," I said honestly.
He nodded, headed to the kitchen. No glance. No approach. As if this morning was just talk between strangers sharing a roof. I followed. Stopped in the doorway. Honoring the distance he'd set.
Alaric opened the fridge, grabbed something, then paused. Closed it softly. Too softly.
"Don't stand there," he said without turning. "Sit."
Not a harsh command. But I obeyed.
He made something simple. Movements efficient. Controlled. Like someone leaning on routine to keep other thoughts at bay.
When he set the plate down, our fingers nearly brushed. Nearly. Alaric pulled back fast—too fast for mere politeness.
"Thanks," I said.
"Mm-hmm."
We sat across, the small table a mutual boundary. I tried to eat. Failed. Every fork lift, I felt his gaze—not on my face, but on the small things he shouldn't notice: my fingers, my wrist, the way I swallowed.
"Something you want to say?" I finally asked.
He stopped stirring his coffee. Stared into the black liquid like the answer hid there. "There's something we shouldn't discuss," he replied.
"And something we need to," I countered.
Alaric looked up. His gaze was cold—not empty, but locked down tight. "I won't repeat the same mistake twice."
"You call it a mistake," I said softly.
He exhaled long. "I call it risk."
"And me?" My voice nearly drowned. "What am I to you?"
The silence hung heavy. Dangerous."
I won't give you an answer that makes you hope," he said at last. "Or one that makes you leave."
Not an answer. But enough to spike my pulse.
~~~
Afternoon edged in.
Rain fell again—soft, steady, like a backdrop chosen for what shouldn't happen. Alaric stood at the window, staring out. I stood behind him, an arm's length away.
"Evelyn's home late," he said without turning.
I swallowed. "I know."
He half-turned. Our eyes met. No warning this time. No orders. Just raw honesty held tight.
"This stays the same," he said low. "In daylight."
"And at night?" I asked again, persistent on the question he dodged.
Alaric stepped closer—one step. Enough to thicken the air. "Night," he murmured, voice dropping, "is the hardest part."
Heat climbed my neck. "You're not answering."He raised a hand—stopped short of touching. Fingertips disturbed only the air between us. "Because the answer could push us too far."
I stared at that small gap. "Or make it honest."
Alaric closed his eyes briefly. When they opened, they were dark. Not wild—barely leashed.
"If you stay here tonight," he said quietly, "I can promise only one thing."
"What?"
"That I'll try to stop." He lowered his hand. "And I'm not sure I will."
I didn't back away. Didn't close in. Just stood there, taking the truth like a slow ember—burning sure, not yet consuming.
The front door opened. Evelyn's footsteps. Her light laugh filled the house.
Alaric retreated a step. Face composed. Shoulders squared. Perfect husband.
I retreated too. The sister-in-law I should be.
When Evelyn walked in and greeted us both, Alaric glanced my way. Just a moment.
That look said what words wouldn't.
Distance won't save us.
And for the first time, I realized—the real danger wasn't getting too close.
It was pretending we were safe.
~~~
Avernon City looked most honest in the mornings—cold, bustling, indifferent to whoever got left behind. From the guest room window, Anna watched the glass towers reflect sunlight. The city moved fast, like everyone had a clear purpose.
Except her.
Nearly a week in the Devano mansion. Too long for a visit, too short for settling. But in that brief time, Anna grasped one truth: this house ran on unwritten rules. And Alaric Devano sat at its center.
Breakfast unfolded as usual—quiet, orderly, almost chilly. Evelyn at the table's end, scrolling her tablet through social schedules. Alaric reading reports on his phone. No long talks. No touches. Picture perfect.
Anna sat between them, acutely aware of how small her role looked.
"Heading to campus today?" Evelyn asked without looking up.
"Yeah," Anna replied. "Admin stuff."
"The driver will take you," Alaric said curtly, eyes still on his screen.
Not an offer. A decision.
Anna nodded, though she hadn't asked. Things worked that way here—no approval needed.
~~~
The black Devano car cut through downtown. From the back seat, Anna caught her reflection in the window. She looked calm. Polished. No one knew her mind churned unasked questions.
Why does Alaric always know where I am?
Why does his presence feel watched… and guarded?
Campus errands done, the driver didn't head home.
"Mr. Alaric requests you go straight to Devano Corporation," he said politely.
Anna paused. "Now?"
"Yes."
Devano Corporation towered like the city's own emblem—cold, elegant, unshakeable. In the vast marble lobby, Alaric Devano's name carried reverence. He wasn't just owner. He was the system.
Alaric waited upstairs.
"Sit," he said as Anna entered his office.
Minimalist space. Sharp lines. Floor-to-ceiling glass over the city. No family photos. No personal touches. All under control.
"You're not asking why I called you here," Alaric noted.
"Not sure the answer would be honest," Anna shot back.
He held her gaze long enough for a rare, almost dangerous smile. "You're learning."
He stood, approached, stopped at safe distance. No touch. No pressure.
"One thing I need you to understand," he said low. "While you're in Avernon City, you're under my name."
Anna lifted her chin. "I don't belong to anyone."
"I know," he replied quick. "That's why I'm explaining."
He turned to the window. "This city isn't kind to those without protection. Especially someone like you."
"Like me how?"
"Not used to power games," Alaric said without hesitation. "And too honest."
Silence settled. Not awkward. Not comfortable.
"I didn't ask for this," Anna said finally.
"Nor did I ask for inconvenient feelings," Alaric returned flatly. "But we own the consequences."
Anna studied him—the man standing tall, commanding city, company, family. For the first time, she saw the faint crack behind his calm.
"What consequences do you mean?" she asked softly.
Alaric met her eyes. "That from now on, we stop pretending this doesn't touch us."
No confession. No denial. Just honesty laid bare on the table.
~~~
That evening, back at the mansion, Anna felt the shift. Not in Alaric's manner. Not in the house. In herself.
She wasn't just the girl keeping distance anymore. She was someone starting to map the terrain—and choosing to stand in it.
Night fell, city lights blazing like false stars. Anna stood on the balcony. Avernon's wind tugged her hair.
Footsteps approached from inside. Alaric stopped a few paces back. Silent. Untouching.
His presence spoke clear enough.
And Anna knew—this wasn't about avoidance anymore.
It was two adults, fully aware of the line… standing too damn close to it.