Aurelia's POV
"Miss Vale. My cabin. Now."
I looked up from my laptop.
Vincent stood at the entrance of my office, his expression perfectly professional.
Too professional.
I narrowed my eyes.
"Is there a problem with the case file?"
"Several."
"Which one?"
"The one concerning your inability to follow instructions."
I stared at him.
"What instructions?"
He looked at his watch.
"Two minutes, Miss Vale."
Then he walked away.
I sat there for a moment.
Oh, he was absolutely getting on my nerves.
I saved my work, took the file he had left on my desk, and walked towards his cabin.
The moment I entered, he closed the door behind me.
I turned.
"All right. What's so urgent that you couldn't discuss it in my office?"
He didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he walked towards his desk, placed a document on it, and looked at me.
"You've been avoiding me all morning."
I blinked.
"What?"
"You heard me."
"Vincent, we had a meeting, two hearings to prepare for, and a pile of files waiting for us. I've been working."
"Precisely."
I folded my arms.
"Are you seriously complaining because I'm doing my job?"
"No."
He came closer.
"I'm complaining because you've been doing your job exceptionally well while completely ignoring your boyfriend."
I pressed my lips together.
He noticed.
Of course he did.
"You're smiling."
"I'm not."
"You are."
"Perhaps you're imagining things."
"Perhaps."
He stopped in front of me.
Then, before I could produce another clever response, he slipped his arms around my waist and gently pulled me closer.
I looked up at him.
His usual confident expression had softened into something more playful.
"You dared me," he murmured.
I raised an eyebrow.
"To do what?"
"To be the man who could stand beside you without holding himself back."
He tilted his head slightly.
"And now that I have permission to be your boyfriend, you're surprised that I intend to take the position seriously?"
I laughed.
"You're such a loser in love, you know that."
"I only hear in love which I am with you."
He leaned closer.
"Do you want me to stop?"
The teasing left his voice for a moment.
I looked into his eyes.
"Do I look like someone who would say no?."
His smile returned.
"No."
He kissed me.
It was brief at first, warm and familiar, but when I reached for him, he kissed me again.
For a few seconds, there were no case files, no deadlines, and no colleagues waiting outside.
Just Vincent.
And me.
And the rather inconvenient fact that I was beginning to understand why he kept finding excuses to visit my cabin.
A knock sounded at the door.
We separated immediately.
Vincent straightened his tie.
I picked up the nearest file.
Another knock.
"Come in," Vincent called.
Mr. Sanchez entered with a folder.
His eyes moved from Vincent to me.
Then to the file I was holding upside down.
He paused.
"Sir, the documents you requested."
Vincent accepted them.
"Thank you, Sanchez."
Mr. Sanchez glanced at me again.
"Miss Aurelia."
"Mr. Sanchez."
A perfectly ordinary greeting.
Absolutely nothing suspicious.
He nodded and left.
The door closed.
I slowly turned towards Vincent.
"That was close."
Vincent looked at the door.
"Not particularly."
I stared at him.
"Not particularly?"
"He knocked."
"Yes, Vincent. That's generally how doors work."
He smiled.
I pointed a finger at him.
"If anyone finds out, I am blaming you."
"Naturally."
"And I will deny everything."
"Of course."
"And you are not allowed to summon me to your cabin for ridiculous reasons."
He looked thoughtful.
"Would you prefer legitimate reasons?"
"Vincent!"
He laughed.
I tried to look offended.
It was difficult when he was looking at me like that.
"Go back to work, Vale."
I walked towards the door.
"I was anyway going."
"One more thing."
I turned.
He held out his hand.
I approached him cautiously.
He kissed my forehead.
"Have lunch with me."
I smiled despite myself.
"That's a legitimate reason."
I laughed before I left.
"..."
By evening, I had discovered that having Vincent as a boyfriend came with several unexpected complications.
The first was that he remembered everything.
The second was that he considered remembering everything a perfectly reasonable excuse to interfere with my schedule.
The third was that he had apparently decided my house was his favourite place to spend time, provided he had received an invitation.
And that evening, I invited him over.
We ordered dinner, changed into comfortable clothes, and settled on the couch with a movie playing on the television.
At least, I watched the movie.
Vincent spent the first twenty minutes watching me.
"You're doing it again," I said.
"Doing what?"
"Watching me instead of the movie."
"I've seen the movie."
"You chose it."
"I wanted to know whether you'd like it."
I turned towards him.
"And?"
"I've reached a conclusion."
"Which is?"
He smiled.
"You look better than the actors."
I stared at him.
"Bro that was terrible."
"You smiled."
"Out of pity."
"I'll accept anything from you."
I shook my head and returned to the movie.
A few minutes later, I realised he had gone quiet.
Not his usual quiet, where he was planning a witty response.
This was different.
His gaze had shifted towards the television, but he wasn't really watching it.
His fingers were resting against the edge of the cushion.
I knew that expression.
It was the one he wore when something was on his mind and he was trying to decide whether to speak about it.
I paused the movie.
"Vincent?"
"Hmm?"
"Where did you go?"
He looked at me.
"I'm here."
"Physically, yes."
He gave me a faint smile.
I moved closer.
"What's wrong?"
For a moment, I thought he would dismiss the question.
Instead, he looked down at his hands.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Anything."
He was quiet for a few seconds.
"Do you ever worry about trusting someone too much?"
I blinked.
The question was so unexpected that I didn't immediately answer.
"Sometimes," I admitted. "Why?"
He leaned back against the couch.
"Because trusting someone gives them the opportunity to hurt you in a way that strangers can't."
His voice was calm, but something beneath it wasn't.
I waited.
He continued.
"I've always believed that if you understand a situation well enough, you can prepare for most outcomes."
I tilted my head.
"Most outcomes aren't all outcomes."
"I know."
He looked at me.
"That's the problem."
For the first time that evening, I saw the uncertainty he usually kept hidden.
Not weakness.
Not a lack of confidence.
Fear.
The kind that came from knowing that even when you did everything right, you could still lose something important.
"Is this about your brother?" I asked quietly.
His expression changed.
He looked away.
"Partly."
I didn't press him.
After a moment, he spoke again.
"I lost him before I understood what losing someone really meant. There were things I thought we'd have time to do. Conversations I thought we could have later. Things I assumed would still be there when I was ready."
He swallowed.
"And then there wasn't a later."
I moved closer, listening.
"Since then, I've found myself preparing for things to go wrong. I think about what could happen, what I might miss, what I should have noticed."
His fingers tightened slightly.
"And when I care about someone, that feeling becomes worse."
I understood then.
Vincent was so good at being prepared for everything because he was terrified of the one thing he couldn't prepare for.
Losing someone he loved.
"Vincent."
He looked at me.
"You don't have to predict every possible disaster to deserve a happy life."
A faint smile touched his lips.
"That sounds suspiciously like advice from a lawyer."
"It is. I charge by the hour."
He laughed quietly.
I took his hand.
"But listen to me. I can't promise you that life will always be easy. I can't promise that nothing bad will ever happen."
His expression grew serious.
"What I can promise is that I won't make decisions about us without giving you the chance to speak. And I won't expect you to read my mind, either."
He looked at our joined hands.
"I don't want to lose you."
The words were so quiet that I almost missed them.
I shifted closer and wrapped my arms around him.
For a moment, he didn't move.
Then his arms came around me, holding me close.
I rested my cheek against his shoulder.
"You don't have to earn the right to be loved by preventing everything that could hurt us," I whispered.
His breath caught slightly.
"And you don't have to pretend you're never afraid with me."
He held me a little tighter.
I stayed there until I felt his shoulders relax.
Eventually, he rested his forehead against mine.
"You're very difficult to argue with."
"I know."
"Infuriatingly logical."
"Thank you."
"That wasn't a compliment."
"I focus on positive things only."
He laughed.
Then he kissed me.
This time, there was no teasing in it.
Only the quiet reassurance of two people who had chosen to trust each other, even knowing that love could never come with a guarantee.
When we finally drew apart, I brushed my thumb across his cheek.
"Better?"
He nodded.
"Much."
"Good. Now we're finishing the movie."
"Absolutely."
Five minutes later, I realised he hadn't been watching it again.
"Vincent."
"Yes, Kitten?"
"Eyes on the screen."
He smiled.
"I'm trying."
"Try harder."
"Yes, ma'am."
Dinner arrived shortly afterwards.
We ate at the small dining table, arguing over the movie's ending and whether the main character had made the right decision.
Vincent insisted that the character had ignored several obvious warning signs.
I pointed out that he was analysing a romantic comedy like a criminal investigation.
"Bad decisions are bad decisions, Vale."
"Not everything is a case."
"Perhaps it should be."
I threw a napkin at him.
He caught it.
Show-off. Flex. HMH!
When dinner was over, I walked him towards the door.
"You know," I said, leaning against the frame, "you could stay a little longer."
He looked at me.
For a second, his expression softened.
Then he shook his head.
"Not tonight."
I raised an eyebrow.
"And why not?"
"Because I want you to wake up tomorrow without wondering whether you have to make room in your life for me every time I want to be near you."
I stared at him.
He continued.
"I want you to invite me because you want me here, not because you think I'll be disappointed if you don't."
His voice was gentle.
"And I have an early meeting tomorrow. If I stay, I'll spend the morning trying to convince you that I'm perfectly capable of being professional after three hours of sleep."
I laughed.
"You absolutely would."
"Exactly."
He took my hand and kissed my knuckles.
"I love spending time with you, Aurelia. But I don't want my love to become another responsibility you have to manage."
For once, I had no clever response.
I stepped closer and kissed him.
"Goodnight, Sir ."
He smiled.
"Goodnight, Kitten."
He left.
I closed the door and leaned against it for a moment, smiling to myself.
He was clingy.
Ridiculously clingy.
But he also knew when to give me space.
And somehow, that made me want to invite him back even more.