The breaking point came quietly.
Back in the car, the city blurred past the windows, but the tension inside was unbearable. Adrian's hand still rested at my back—too intimate now to be dismissed as protection.
"You shouldn't have said that," I said softly.
"Said what?"
"That I wasn't staff. That I was under your protection."
His jaw tightened. "It was necessary."
"No," I replied, turning to face him. "It was personal."
Silence filled the car, thick and volatile. The driver's eyes stayed forward, wisely distant.
"You crossed a line tonight," I continued, heart pounding. "And so did I—for letting you."
Adrian exhaled slowly, like he was restraining something dangerous. "You think I don't know that?"
"Then stop pretending this is still a contract," I said. "Because it isn't."
The car stopped at a red light. Adrian turned fully toward me, his gaze sharp, unguarded, furious—not at me, but at the truth.
"You were never supposed to matter," he said quietly.
The words hurt more than I expected.
"But you do," he continued, voice lower now. "You matter more than control. More than rules. And that is exactly why this is dangerous."
My breath caught. "Then let me go."
He laughed once—bitter, humorless. "If I could, I would have already."
The admission shattered something between us.
"You think I don't feel it?" he went on. "Every time you flinch. Every time you look at me like you're trying not to want something you already do."
My chest burned. "You made rules," I whispered.
"Yes," he said. "And tonight, I broke them."
He reached out then—finally—cupping my face with a tenderness that felt like surrender. The world narrowed to the space between us, breath mingling, restraint fraying.
"This ends the contract," he said quietly. "Because I can't protect you and pretend I feel nothing."
"Adrian—"
"Say no," he murmured. "And I will walk away."
I didn't.
Instead, I leaned forward, forehead resting against his, tears threatening, voice barely there. "I was already falling when you warned me not to."
His breath hitched.
The kiss didn't happen.
But the distance vanished.
And in that fragile space—where rules died and truth stood naked—I knew one thing:
Whatever came next would cost us everything.