We didn't return to the penthouse that night.
Adrian redirected the driver with a single word, his jaw set, his attention sharp and distant. I didn't ask where we were going. I'd learned that questions came after obedience—not before.
The building we stopped at was discreet, heavily guarded. Security nodded him through without hesitation.
"Temporary," he said as we stepped inside. "Until things settle."
My chest tightened. "Settle how?"
He turned to me then, eyes dark, searching my face as if weighing how much truth to give. "You're safer where I can see you."
The words shouldn't have sent a shiver through me. But they did.
Inside, the space was smaller, more contained. Fewer rooms. Nowhere to retreat without crossing paths. The air felt charged, compressed by proximity and unspoken tension.
"You'll stay here tonight," he said. "No calls. No messages. No mistakes."
"Yes," I replied softly.
Hours passed in restless silence. I sat on the edge of the sofa, trying to slow my thoughts, when I felt him behind me—too close, too quiet.
"You held up well today," he said.
I looked up. "You sound surprised."
"I don't reward weakness," he replied. Then, after a pause, "But I acknowledge competence."
Something shifted in his tone. Not softer—but closer.
I stood, intending to put space between us, but he didn't move aside. The distance vanished, replaced by heat, tension, awareness.
"Careful," he murmured. "You're standing on a line."
"So are you," I said before I could stop myself.
His eyes flickered. Surprise. Interest. Control tightening.
"I warned you," he said quietly. "This arrangement ends the moment emotions interfere."
My heart hammered. "Then maybe you shouldn't stand this close."
For a long moment, he didn't respond. His gaze dropped to my lips, just briefly—enough to feel like a betrayal of every rule he'd set.
Then he stepped back.
"Get some rest," he said, voice controlled again. "Tomorrow will be worse."
He walked away, leaving the room colder, emptier.
I exhaled shakily, realizing how close we'd come—not to touching, but to something far more dangerous.
Because distance wasn't protecting us anymore.
And the line he warned me about?
We were already standing on it—together.