CHAPTER FOUR: Tipping point.
Aria's wine glass was half-empty, her throat warm from the silky red that tasted far too smooth for how sharp her nerves were. Across from her, Julian leaned back, watching her with a gaze that felt more like possession than curiosity.
"How many glasses is that?" he asked, voice low, teasing.
She blinked, smirking. "Enough to forget why I hate being here."
He tilted his head, smile curling like smoke. "Do you?"
She opened her mouth, then closed it. The room was too warm. Or maybe it was the look in his eyes. Or maybe it was the way her body betrayed her—leaning forward slightly, as if lured by gravity she didn't understand.
They didn't talk about work after that. Didn't talk about secrets or threats or that reckless night they'd both pretended never happened.
They just drank. And looked at each other like they'd already made a mistake.
By the time the second bottle was half gone, Aria's laughter had softened. Julian was closer now, his chair somehow angled toward hers, knees almost brushing.
"You know," she said, swirling her glass lazily, "I should walk away right now."
"You should," he murmured. "But you won't."
There was no pretense when she looked at him now. No office persona, no armor. Just heat, tension, and that dangerous pull she had tried so hard to resist.
"Why do you always act like you know me?" she asked, breath barely steady.
"Because I do," he said simply. "Even the parts you pretend don't exist."
As they stood to leave, Aria swayed slightly, her vision tilting for a breath. She blinked hard, but the wine had clearly hit her harder than expected.
Julian reached out just as her heel caught the floor. His hand wrapped around her waist, steadying her before she could fall.
"You're not going home like this," he said, voice low and firm.
She opened her mouth to argue, but the room spun again.
"Come with me," he added, already guiding her toward the exit. "Just tonight."