The ride back to the hotel was quiet in the way that felt intentional.
Zurich passed by in clean, orderly streaks of light, streets empty, obedient. Nyra sat in the passenger seat, one leg crossed over the other, arms folded loosely. She wasn't angry. That would've been easy.
She was amused.
Adrian drove with both hands on the wheel, jaw tight, eyes forward. The silence stretched longer than he liked.
"You didn't need to do that," Nyra said finally.
"I did," he replied without hesitation.
She turned toward him, eyebrow raised. "Care to explain? Because from where I was sitting, it looked like you forgot this isn't one of your boardrooms."
His grip tightened slightly. "It was unprofessional."
She laughed softly. "Flirting in a lounge is unprofessional now?"
"With a stranger," he added quickly. Too quickly.
Nyra caught that.
They stopped at a red light. The city reflected in the windshield like a mirrored lie.
"You're part of my team," Adrian said, tone cooler now, carefully rebuilt. "Perception matters. Appearances matter. I won't have distractions undermining this project."
There it was.
Damage control.
Nyra leaned back, studying him. "So this is about work."
"Yes."
A beat.
"You sure?" she asked lightly.
The light turned green. Adrian drove on.
Inside the car, the tension shifted,less sharp, more charged. Nyra replayed the moment in the lounge, the way Adrian had appeared out of nowhere, the calm authority in his voice.
Too personal.
Too fast.
But she wasn't ready to poke that beast yet.
"Next time," she said, "try asking. Not ordering."
"I'm not used to asking," he replied quietly.
That honesty slipped out before he could stop it.
Nyra smirked.
The hotel loomed ahead, all glass and steel. They parked. Neither moved right away.
Adrian exhaled. "I didn't mean to… escalate."
She turned fully toward him now. "You did."
Silence.
"But it's okay," she added casually. "I've dealt with worse."
That wasn't comforting.
It unnerved him.
They rode the elevator up together, standing on opposite sides, eyes fixed anywhere but each other. The hum of the cables filled the space between them.
At her floor, Nyra stepped out.
She paused.
Looked back at him.
"For the record," she said, voice soft, unreadable, "you don't own my nights."
The doors slid shut.
Adrian stayed frozen as his reflection stared back at him in the mirrored walls.
He told himself he'd handled it.
Told himself he'd fixed the damage.
But the truth lingered heavier than silence:
He hadn't regained control.
He'd only revealed how much he'd already lost.