They agree it meant nothing—both lying.
Morning arrived quietly.
No thunder. No darkness. No excuses.
Sunlight filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows, soft and unforgiving. It revealed everything Maya wished she could pretend hadn't happened—the way she was curled slightly toward Adrian, the way his arm rested near her waist, close enough to feel but not touching.
Close enough to remember.
She woke up first.
For a moment, she didn't move. She listened to his breathing—slow, controlled, already awake. He was pretending to sleep.
So was she.
Eventually, she shifted, carefully disentangling herself from the gravity of the night. The moment her weight left the mattress, Adrian's eyes opened.
Too fast.
They looked at each other.
The silence screamed.
"I'll—" Maya started, then stopped. "I'll make coffee."
"Okay," Adrian replied, voice neutral.
Too neutral.
They stood in the kitchen like strangers.
The space between them felt heavier than it had ever been. Maya focused on the coffee machine, on the mundane comfort of routine.
She could still feel the phantom warmth of his chest against her cheek.
She hated that.
"About last night," Adrian said.
Her shoulders tensed. "Yes."
"It was… circumstantial," he continued carefully. "The storm. The blackout."
She turned to face him. "A coincidence."
"Yes."
They stared at each other.
Waiting.
For honesty.
Neither gave it.
"It won't happen again," he said.
Her heart sank—relieved and disappointed all at once. "It shouldn't."
"It didn't mean anything," he added, as if convincing himself.
She nodded. "Of course not."
The lie settled between them like dust.
Breakfast was quiet.
No teasing. No tension disguised as banter. Just clinking cutlery and unspoken thoughts.
Maya finally broke. "We crossed a line."
"We didn't," Adrian corrected immediately. "Nothing happened."
She met his eyes. "Something did."
He stiffened. "It can't."
"Why?" she asked softly.
"Because this is temporary," he said. "Six months. No attachments."
"And last night?" she pressed.
He stood abruptly. "Last night was a mistake."
The word cut deeper than she expected.
"A mistake," she repeated.
"Yes," he said firmly. "One we won't repeat."
Her chest ached, but she lifted her chin. "Good. I wouldn't want complications."
Their gazes locked.
Two liars, perfectly matched.
At Blackwood International, they were flawless.
Professional. Distant. Untouchable.
Adrian didn't stand too close. Maya didn't linger. Their hands didn't brush.
The office noticed the change.
"So the honeymoon's over?" someone whispered.
Maya ignored it.
Adrian pretended not to hear.
But every time Maya laughed with someone else, something dark twisted in Adrian's chest.
Every time Adrian leaned over his desk, focused and unreachable, Maya remembered the way his heartbeat had sounded under her ear.
Nothing, they told themselves.
It was nothing.
That night, they passed each other in the hallway.
No storm. No excuses.
"Good night," Maya said.
"Good night," Adrian replied.
Their doors closed separately.
Maya leaned against hers, breath unsteady.
Across the hall, Adrian stood motionless, hand still resting on the door handle.
Nothing, he reminded himself.
But when he lay down alone in his bed, the emptiness screamed.
And when Maya curled up in hers, she realized the truth she refused to say aloud—
If that night meant nothing…
Then why did it hurt so much to let it go?
Next: Chapter 17 - The CEO Gets Protective
They deny what happened… but their hearts are already exposed.
Tonight | 11:30 PM – 12:30 AM