Amber did not sleep.
She lay on her bed long after midnight, the city lights bleeding through the sheer curtains, painting shifting patterns across the ceiling. Every time she closed her eyes, she was back at the restaurant—Alex's voice low and controlled, the deliberate distance he had kept, the way restraint had felt more intimate than touch.
I'll wait. Until you choose.
It was infuriating.
Waiting was her strategy. Patience was her weapon. And yet, he had turned it into something else entirely—something personal.
She rolled onto her side, staring at the phone on her nightstand. No new messages. No missed calls since earlier. He was keeping his word.
That unsettled her more than persistence ever would have.
Morning came without mercy.
Amber was already dressed when the sun rose, her movements sharp and precise, as though she could slice through the restlessness by sheer discipline. By the time she stepped into the breakfast room, Camila and Layla were already there.
Layla looked up first, eyes narrowing with interest. "You look like you didn't sleep."
Camila shot her a warning glance. "Layla."
"What?" Layla shrugged. "She told me honesty matters."
Amber poured herself coffee. "I slept enough."
Camila studied her over the rim of her cup. "You didn't."
Amber didn't bother denying it.
Layla leaned forward, chin resting on her palm. "Did he wait?"
The question was innocent. Curious. Unloaded.
Amber paused.
"Yes," she said finally.
Layla smiled faintly. "That's worse than chasing."
Camila sighed. "She's not wrong."
Amber set her cup down slowly. "Enough. I have meetings all day."
Camila nodded, but her gaze lingered. "So does Alex. Wilson Group called this morning."
Amber's jaw tightened. "About what?"
"A joint initiative proposal," Camila replied. "They want you present."
Of course they did.
At Wilson Headquarters, Alex was facing a different kind of interrogation.
Elsa Wilson sat across from him in the private conference room, hands folded, expression calm but sharp. Harrison stood by the window, silent but observant.
"You didn't kiss her," Elsa said plainly.
Alex blinked. "Excuse me?"
"You had the opportunity," she continued. "Public place. Controlled environment. Emotional opening. And you didn't take it."
Alex exhaled slowly. "This isn't one of your social experiments."
"No," Elsa replied calmly. "It's an observation."
Harrison turned. "Your mother's point is simple. You're approaching this differently than you approach most things."
Alex met his father's gaze. "Because Amber Gareth isn't 'most things.'"
Elsa's lips curved slightly. "You're invested."
"I'm intentional," Alex corrected.
"And vulnerable," Elsa added softly.
Alex stiffened. "I don't do vulnerability."
"You do," she said gently. "You just rename it."
Silence stretched.
"Be careful," Harrison said finally. "The board is watching. And they're not nearly as patient as you are."
Alex nodded. "I'm aware."
But even as he said it, his mind drifted back to Amber—her restraint, her fire, the way she hadn't backed down even when she'd clearly wanted to.
He wanted her choice.
Not her surrender.
The joint initiative meeting was scheduled for noon.
Amber arrived precisely on time, her presence commanding the room the moment she entered. Alex was already there, standing near the window, speaking quietly with Damien Cortez.
When his eyes met hers, there was no greeting smile. No tension-breaking gesture.
Just recognition.
They took their seats across from one another, the table suddenly too narrow, too intimate.
Damien cleared his throat. "Thank you both for attending. This initiative could redefine the partnership landscape between Gareth Accessories and the Wilson Group."
Amber nodded. "Let's hear it."
For the next hour, strategy unfolded—market expansions, shared resources, risk mitigation. Amber and Alex worked in perfect alignment, finishing each other's thoughts without acknowledging it.
It was seamless.
It was dangerous.
At one point, their hands brushed as they reached for the same document.
The contact was brief.
Electric.
Neither reacted outwardly.
But Damien noticed.
So did everyone else.
When the meeting ended, Amber stood immediately. "We'll review internally and follow up."
Alex rose as well. "I'll walk you out."
"That's unnecessary," she replied.
"I disagree."
They stepped into the corridor, the door closing softly behind them.
"You're avoiding me," Alex said quietly.
"I'm prioritizing," Amber countered.
"Your heart?"
She turned sharply. "Don't."
Alex didn't flinch. "You asked me to wait. I am. But waiting doesn't mean silence."
Amber's breath caught. "This isn't—"
"You're not as untouched as you pretend," he said gently. "And neither am I."
For a moment, the distance between them felt unbearable.
Then Amber stepped back.
"This ends if you push," she said firmly.
Alex nodded. "Then I won't."
She hesitated—just a fraction.
And walked away.
That afternoon, Layla sat in the backseat of the car as Camila drove them home.
"He makes you think," Layla said suddenly.
Amber glanced at her in the mirror. "You shouldn't be thinking about this."
Layla shrugged. "I think about everything. You taught me that."
Camila smiled faintly. "And?"
"And," Layla continued, "you don't look afraid. You look… awake."
Amber said nothing.
But the word stayed with her.
That night, Amber stood in her bathroom, water steaming as she undressed slowly. She stepped into the shower, letting the heat wash over her, trying to quiet her mind.
It didn't work.
Alex's voice echoed in her thoughts.
His restraint.
His patience.
The promise in the way he looked at her—as if she were something chosen, not claimed.
Her breath hitched.
This wasn't lust.
This was something far more dangerous.
Later, wrapped in silk sheets, her phone buzzed.
One message.
I meant what I said.
No pressure. No chase.
Just honesty.
She stared at the screen.
Then typed.
Honesty can be reckless.
The reply came almost immediately.
So can denial.
Amber closed her eyes.
The line had shifted.
And she wasn't sure she wanted it back where it had been.