Chapter 57: After the Applause
Night had already settled when the city exhaled, the kind of slow, glittering calm that followed chaos. Gareth Accessories' private event hall was emptying out in waves—assistants packing equipment, security escorting the last of the guests, designers murmuring about impressions and reactions. The applause from earlier still echoed faintly in Amber's ears, not as sound but as pressure, as proof that tonight had mattered.
She stood alone near the tall glass windows, heels in hand, barefoot on the cool marble floor. The skyline stretched before her, sharp and alive. Success always came with this familiar aftermath: silence heavy enough to expose thoughts she preferred to keep buried.
Camila approached quietly, careful not to break the fragile stillness too abruptly. "The reviews are already pouring in," she said, holding up her tablet. "Positive. Very positive. Investors are impressed. The board is relieved."
Amber didn't turn. "Relieved isn't satisfied," she replied. "And satisfied never stays that way."
Camila smiled faintly. "You did well tonight. You always do. Even with everything hovering over us."
Amber finally faced her sister. "Hovering doesn't scare me. What follows does."
Camila studied her closely. "Alex?"
Amber didn't answer immediately. She slipped her heels back on, the click grounding her. "He watched everything tonight. Not like the others. Like he was reading between the movements, the pauses, the applause. That man doesn't just see success—he sees leverage."
"And desire," Camila added gently.
Amber's jaw tightened. "That's the part I refuse to miscalculate."
Camila reached out, squeezing her hand briefly. "I'll handle the cleanup here. Go home. Or… wherever you need to be."
Amber nodded. "Thank you."
The drive was quiet, the city lights blurring past as Amber leaned back against the leather seat. Her phone buzzed once.
Alex: You disappeared.
She stared at the message longer than necessary.
Amber: I don't linger after victories.
A pause. Then—
Alex: Neither do I. But I prefer conversations when the masks are off.
Her fingers hovered over the screen.
Amber: Careful. You might not like what you find.
Alex: I already do.
She exhaled slowly. "Damn you," she murmured under her breath, before typing.
Amber: Come to the penthouse. Thirty minutes.
The penthouse was dim when she arrived, lights low, the city glowing through floor-to-ceiling windows. Amber shrugged off her jacket, loosening the collar of her dress. Tonight's confidence still clung to her skin, but beneath it was something rawer—anticipation sharpened by restraint stretched too thin.
She poured herself a glass of water, then stopped, switched it for wine. Control didn't always mean denial.
When the doorbell rang, she didn't rush.
Alex stood there when she opened the door, dark suit abandoned for a simpler shirt, sleeves rolled up. His eyes swept over her slowly, deliberately, taking in the loosened hair, the tension in her posture, the faint edge of fatigue she didn't bother hiding.
"You looked untouchable tonight," he said quietly.
Amber stepped aside to let him in. "Appearances are currency."
"And truth?" he asked, walking in.
She closed the door behind him. "Truth is expensive."
They stood there, the space between them charged and familiar now, like a line neither pretended not to see anymore.
"You orchestrated that entire room," Alex continued. "Every reaction. Every moment. You didn't just win them—you owned them."
"And yet," Amber said coolly, "you're not impressed."
He smiled. "I'm very impressed. That's the problem."
She turned toward the window, setting her glass down. "Then say what you came to say."
Alex followed, stopping close enough that she felt his presence without touching. "The board is restless. The scandal hasn't fully died. There are eyes watching us—both of us."
Amber laughed softly. "There always are."
"They're wondering," he continued, "whether our alignment is strategy… or something messier."
She turned, meeting his gaze. "And what do you think?"
"I think," he said slowly, "that whatever this is between us stopped being just strategy a long time ago."
Silence stretched.
Amber searched his face, the confidence, the challenge, the restraint he mirrored back at her. "Careful, Alex. That's a dangerous admission."
"So is inviting me here," he replied.
The air shifted then, subtle but unmistakable. Amber closed the distance herself, standing directly in front of him. "Don't confuse invitation with surrender."
"I wouldn't dare."
His hand lifted, hovering near her waist, not touching. Waiting.
She swallowed. "You don't get to cross lines without permission."
"Then give it," he said softly.
For a long moment, she didn't move. Control had always been her armor, her edge. But control also meant choosing—choosing when to stop resisting something inevitable.
Amber placed her hand over his wrist and guided it to her waist. "One step," she said. "That's all."
Alex exhaled, a slow, steady sound, before pulling her closer—not rushed, not forceful. The kiss that followed was deliberate, deep, and unhurried, built from weeks of restraint finally allowed to fracture. It wasn't reckless; it was claimed.
When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads resting together, Amber's breath was unsteady. "This doesn't change who I am," she said quietly.
Alex brushed his thumb along her jaw. "I'm not here to change you."
Much later, the city was quieter, the penthouse wrapped in shadows and soft light. Amber stood at the window again, robe loosely tied, wine forgotten on the counter. Alex sat nearby, watching her with an expression she couldn't quite read.
"This doesn't make us simple," she said without turning.
He smiled faintly. "Nothing about you has ever been simple."
She faced him. "What happens now?"
"Now?" he said. "Now the world keeps watching. And we decide what we give it."
Amber nodded once. "Then understand this—whatever this becomes, it doesn't weaken me."
Alex stood, stepping closer. "I know. It makes you more dangerous."
A slow smile curved her lips. "Good."
Because danger, Amber Gareth knew, was something she had always learned to wield better than anyone else.