Ross didn't smirk, didn't move, didn't break eye contact.
His stillness carried more power than any gesture.
Then, in that same steady, velvet-deep voice, he answered,
"We both know the answer to that, don't we?"
Silence followed. Heavy. Suffocating.
It wasn't awkward silence—it was the kind that pressed into her skin, forcing her to confront the truth she was desperately trying to deny.
Nina's breathing grew quicker.
She shook her head, her lips parting as if to speak, but nothing came out.
Seconds stretched into minutes.
Her mind screamed leave now, but her body burned, whispering stay.
Finally, as though surrendering to something inevitable, she exhaled shakily and began to move.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
Step by step, she crossed the space between them.
Thud!
The long coat she wore slipped from her shoulders and fell to the floor in a heap.
Ross's eyes darkened immediately.
