Sleep did not come easily that night.
Liora lay in the quiet darkness of her apartment, the city lights slipping through the curtains in thin silver lines that stretched across the ceiling like silent questions.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the same hallway again.
White lilies.
Red roses.
Fragile daisies.
Three different futures waiting in her arms.
Her chest tightened, and she turned onto her side, forcing the memories away.
This was not the time to feel.
Feeling made people careless.
Carelessness ruined plans.
And she had not come this far to ruin anything.
Her phone vibrated softly on the bedside table.
Once.
Then again.
She ignored it.
A third vibration followed—longer this time, patient, confident…
as if the person on the other end already knew she would answer.
Slowly, she reached for the phone.
Rafael Knox.
Of course.
A quiet breath left her lips before she could stop it.
She should not pick up.
She knew exactly what speaking to Rafael at this hour meant.
Danger never knocked politely.
It simply waited until the door opened.
The phone kept ringing.
And somehow…
silence felt worse.
She answered.
"…Hello."
"Couldn't sleep?"
His voice was low, warm, threaded with amusement that felt far too intimate for midnight.
"You shouldn't call this late."
"And you shouldn't sound relieved that I did."
Her fingers tightened slightly around the phone.
Rafael always did this—
stepping past the words she said and touching the truth underneath.
"You're imagining things," she murmured.
"Am I?"
The soft pause that followed felt heavier than noise.
Then he said quietly,
"Come outside."
Her heartbeat stumbled.
"What?"
"I'm downstairs."
For a moment, she thought she had heard wrong.
"You're joking."
"I don't joke about things I want."
Heat slipped unexpectedly through her chest.
Reckless.
Unreasonable.
Completely like him.
"You can't just appear at my building in the middle of the night, Rafael."
"I already did."
Silence again.
Dangerous silence.
Because a part of her—
a part she tried very hard not to know—
was already imagining what would happen if she went down.
"You should go home," she whispered.
"Come downstairs and tell me that."
Her pulse quickened.
This was how he pulled her in.
Not gently like Adrian.
Not purely like Jace.
Rafael pulled like gravity—
strong, certain, impossible to ignore.
"I won't be long," he added softly.
"Five minutes, star girl. Then I disappear."
Five minutes.
Such a small promise.
Such an obvious lie.
And still…
She found herself sitting up.
The elevator ride felt too quiet.
Each floor number glowing above the door counted down like a decision she could still reverse.
She didn't.
By the time the doors opened to the lobby, her heartbeat was already too fast.
The night guard looked half-asleep.
The glass doors reflected only darkness beyond.
And outside—
A familiar black car waited beneath the streetlight.
Of course he hadn't sent a driver.
Rafael never hid behind distance.
He leaned casually against the car door, sleeves slightly rolled, as if midnight visits to actresses were the most natural thing in the world.
When he saw her, his expression changed—
not dramatically,
not obviously—
but enough that warmth flickered through the cool night air.
"You came," he said quietly.
She stopped a few steps away.
"That doesn't mean anything."
"It means you wanted to."
"You're very confident."
"I'm very observant."
Her breath caught before she could stop it.
Too close.
Even with space between them, he always felt too close.
"You said five minutes," she reminded him.
"Then I shouldn't waste time."
He reached into the car and pulled something out.
Not flowers.
Not anything dramatic.
Just a small paper cup.
Steam curled softly into the night.
"…Coffee?" she asked, surprised.
"You looked exhausted on stage."
The simple answer landed somewhere unexpectedly gentle inside her.
"I could have sent it with your manager," he added.
"But I wanted to see your face when you realized someone noticed."
Her throat tightened slightly.
This was Rafael's most dangerous weapon—
not his power,
not his charm—
but the rare, quiet moments when he chose kindness instead of fire.
She accepted the cup slowly, their fingers brushing for the briefest second.
Warmth spread up her arm far too quickly.
"Thank you," she said, softer now.
His gaze darkened just a little.
"I like that tone."
She looked away first.
Dangerous.
Again.
Everything with him was dangerous.
The city hummed around them, distant traffic whispering through the night, the world unaware of how fragile this moment felt.
"You were beautiful tonight," Rafael said.
"That's a very ordinary compliment."
"I don't mean your dress."
Her pulse skipped.
"I mean the moment before they called your name," he continued quietly.
"You looked… hopeful."
Hopeful.
The word felt unfamiliar.
Almost painful.
"You shouldn't watch me that closely," she murmured.
"I watch everything that matters to me."
Silence settled again—thicker this time, heavier with things neither of them should say.
If she stayed longer, the line would blur.
If it blurred… she might cross it.
And crossing lines with Rafael never ended simply.
"I should go upstairs," she said at last.
He didn't stop her.
Didn't argue.
Didn't persuade.
He only nodded once, slow and calm.
But his eyes held hers—steady, intense, impossible to forget.
"Sleep, star girl," he said softly.
"Tomorrow the world starts wanting more from you."
"And you don't?" she asked before thinking.
A faint, dangerous smile touched his lips.
"I already do."
Her breath caught.
Too much.
This was already too much.
She turned quickly and walked back toward the building before she could change her mind.
The glass doors closed behind her with a quiet click.
But even inside the elevator, rising farther and farther from the street…
she could still feel the warmth of the coffee in her hands—
and the heat of his gaze that hadn't needed to touch her
to leave a mark.
Down on the empty street, Rafael watched the darkened elevator numbers climb.
Slowly.
Silently.
His expression lost its softness, something sharper settling beneath.
"Too late to turn back now," he murmured to himself.
Because whether she realized it or not…
the moment she came downstairs tonight—
the game between them had already begun.