Chapter 64 – Boundaries Tested
Sleep refused to come.
Amber lay on her side, staring at the faint glow slipping through the curtains, listening to a space that was too quiet to be empty. The penthouse had its own rhythm—low hums, distant city noise, the whisper of air vents—but beneath it all was something else.
Awareness.
She turned, checking the time on her phone. 1:17 a.m.
Ridiculous, she told herself. She'd slept in worse places. Louder places. Stranger beds. This wasn't about comfort.
It was about him being down the corridor.
With a soft groan, she pushed up and padded barefoot to the minibar. Water. She just needed water.
The hallway lights were dimmed automatically, motion sensors casting soft illumination as she walked. Halfway to the kitchen, she heard it—a low voice, tight with frustration.
Alex.
She slowed, instinct screaming to turn back. Boundaries. Rules. Separate rooms.
But his office door was open, light spilling out, and the tension in his voice pulled her forward.
"…no, that timeline doesn't work," he said into his phone. "You don't leverage her name without my approval."
Pause.
"No. I don't care how it looks. Pull it."
Amber leaned against the wall, unseen. She shouldn't be listening. She knew that. Yet something in his tone—controlled but sharp at the edges—made her stay.
Another pause.
"Because this isn't just optics anymore," he said quietly. "And if you cross that line, I'll dismantle the whole arrangement."
The call ended.
Silence followed, heavier than before.
Amber swallowed and stepped back, intending to retreat quietly. The floor betrayed her with the faintest creak.
Alex looked up instantly.
Their eyes met.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
"You're up late," he said finally, voice calmer now—but guarded.
"So are you." She nodded toward the phone. "Work crisis?"
"Something like that."
She hesitated, then sighed. "I couldn't sleep."
He studied her for a long beat. "Neither could I."
That admission hung between them, fragile and unguarded.
"You shouldn't be out here," he added, not unkindly. "We agreed—"
"I know," she interrupted softly. "I was just getting water."
She moved past him toward the kitchen, hyper-aware of his presence behind her. The way his gaze followed. The way the air seemed to shift.
She poured a glass, hands steady despite the tension curling low in her stomach.
"You sounded angry," she said, keeping her back to him.
"I was."
"Because of the board?"
"Because they think they can use you."
That made her turn.
"Use me?"
Alex stepped closer, stopping a careful distance away. "They see leverage. They always do."
Amber scoffed lightly. "I'm not some pawn, Alex."
"I know," he said immediately. "That's the problem. They don't."
Something in his expression—sharp protectiveness, barely restrained—made her chest tighten.
"You threatened them," she said.
"Yes."
"Why?"
His jaw flexed. "Because I don't like losing control."
She studied him, then shook her head. "That's not the whole truth."
Silence.
Alex exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. The gesture was human. Unpolished.
"They will tear you apart if they can," he said finally. "Publicly. Privately. They won't care about the damage as long as it benefits them."
"And you do?"
"I wouldn't have brought you into this if I didn't intend to protect you."
Her laugh was quiet, humorless. "You didn't give me much of a choice."
"No," he admitted. "I didn't."
Another pause. The air thickened, stretched tight between them.
Amber wrapped her arms around herself. "You know what the funny thing is?"
"What?"
"I've spent years making sure no one could trap me. No contracts. No dependencies. And now—" She gestured vaguely around them. "Here we are."
Alex's gaze softened, just a fraction. "You can still walk away."
"Can I?" she asked softly. "Because the world already thinks I belong to you."
"That doesn't mean you do."
Her eyes flicked to his. "Then stop looking at me like that."
He froze.
"Like what?" he asked, voice low.
"Like I'm something you have to hold onto."
The words hit harder than she intended. She saw it in his eyes—the flicker of something raw, quickly masked.
"This is exactly why we set boundaries," he said. "Because conversations like this blur things."
"Maybe things are already blurred."
He stepped closer before he could stop himself. She didn't move away.
Their proximity was dangerous now. Charged. The space between them felt thinner than paper.
"You don't get to dismantle my walls," Amber whispered. "Not with concern. Not with protection."
"And you don't get to pretend this doesn't affect you," he shot back just as quietly.
They stood there, breathing the same air, both too aware of how easily the rules could fracture.
Amber was the one who stepped back first.
"This was a mistake," she said, turning toward the hallway. "I'm going back to my room."
Alex nodded, regaining control with visible effort. "That's probably wise."
She walked away without looking back, heart pounding far too fast.
Behind her, Alex remained where he was, fists clenched at his sides.
The boundaries were still standing.
But cracks had begun to show.