Rose walked into the office with tired eyes the next morning, her mind spinning with thoughts she couldn't chase away.
Last night she barely slept.
Not because of nightmares—but because of Arvi.
The way he shut her laptop. The way he looked at her. Like maybe… just maybe… he didn't hate her anymore.
But today, he was back to stone.
"Late," he muttered as she walked in. She checked the clock.
"I'm two minutes early."
"You're late in my world."
She set her bag down calmly. "Then maybe your world needs a new clock."
His eyes lifted slowly, meeting hers. Something dark flickered there. But it wasn't rage. It was amusement. Maybe even... interest.
But he didn't smile.
Of course not.
Later that afternoon, Rose was on a call with one of Arvi's associates when she overheard part of a conversation outside his door. Loud. Harsh.
A man yelling.
"You think she's loyal? She's soft, Arvi! She'll break the first time blood's on her hands!"
And then Arvi's voice, cold as frost: "Say her name again like that, and you won't have a tongue left to say anything else."
Her heart dropped.
He was defending her.
Minutes later, Arvi stormed out of his office.
He didn't look at her, just said, "Come with me."
They ended up on the rooftop of the building. The city lights blinked like distant stars. It was cold, wind brushing past them. But Arvi stood still, hands in his coat pockets.
"I don't like being questioned," he said. "Especially about people I've chosen to trust."
Rose hesitated. "Do you trust me?"
He looked at her.
The silence between them grew heavy.
"No," he said. "But I don't distrust you either."
She crossed her arms. "That's not an answer."
"It's the only one you'll get."
She stepped forward, frustrated. "You live like no one deserves the truth."
"I live knowing the truth can get you killed."
She shook her head. "That's not strength, Arvi. That's fear dressed up as power."
He turned to her, suddenly close. "Don't lecture me about fear."
"I will if it means something to you," she snapped.
Their eyes locked—fire and ice clashing, melting, burning.
"I hate how you talk to me," he growled.
"I hate how you make me feel," she whispered.
He paused.
Everything froze in that second. The air, the noise, even their breath.
"What do I make you feel?" he asked.
Her lips parted, her voice trembling. "Small. Weak. And sometimes… like I'm not invisible."
His jaw clenched. He reached out suddenly, grabbing her wrist—not rough, not soft. Just tight enough to be felt.
"You're not invisible," he said, his voice low.
Then he let go.
Turned his back.
"Go downstairs," he muttered. "Before I forget what control feels like."
Rose stood there, chest pounding.
He didn't look back.
But she did.
And for the first time, she realized something dangerous:
This cold, cruel man is starting to thaw.
And it terrified her more than the blood ever did.