Elara stirred beneath the warmth of the covers, blinking slowly as the early morning sunlight spilled through the large windows of her room. For a moment, she forgot where she was. Then she felt it—Xander's hand still gently clasping hers, his steady breath brushing her shoulder from where he lay beside her.
She froze.
They hadn't moved much during the night, yet something had shifted. Something big.
What were you thinking, Elara? she chided herself. This was dangerous territory. Emotional territory.
She slowly untangled her hand from his and sat up carefully. Xander stirred but didn't open his eyes. His face looked softer in sleep, the stern lines on his brow relaxed, his lips slightly parted.
He looked human. Vulnerable. Almost… warm.
And for a split second, Elara wanted to lean down and kiss him.
She got out of bed instead.
By the time Xander woke, Elara had already showered, dressed, and was sipping coffee at the kitchen island, scrolling through her phone and trying to act unaffected.
He walked in, shirtless and barefoot, his dark sweatpants hanging low on his hips. She glanced up, her breath catching against her will. Damn him for looking that good in the morning.
"Good morning," he said, voice hoarse.
"Morning," she replied coolly, lifting her coffee.
He raised an eyebrow. "You always this chipper at 7 a.m.?"
"Only when I sleep well," she said, pointedly.
A beat passed. "About last night—"
She cut him off. "We slept. That's all."
Xander tilted his head, his eyes narrowing. "That's all?"
Elara forced a smile. "What else would it be?"
He studied her for a long moment, but didn't push. "Right."
Right.
Work was unbearable.
Elara kept replaying that moment—the moment she almost kissed him. Her body had leaned in, her heart racing in anticipation. And for what? A kiss wouldn't solve anything.
It would just make things messier.
Xander hadn't said much since breakfast. He wasn't avoiding her, but he wasn't hovering either. It was like they had silently agreed to pretend the night hadn't happened. But pretending didn't erase the tension.
By lunchtime, she was ready to explode.
Which was exactly when fate decided to throw a wrench into her plans.
"Guess who's back in town?" Olivia, her friend from college, texted. "Damien is hosting a little get-together tonight. Come?"
Elara stared at the message.
Damien.
Xander's least favorite name.
She hesitated… then typed back:"I'll think about it."
That evening, she found herself pacing her bedroom, biting her lip. Xander had gone to the gym—alone. No dinner, no conversation. Just a cold "I'll be back late."
She didn't owe him anything.
They weren't really married—not in the way that mattered.
So why did she feel so guilty slipping into a navy-blue cocktail dress?
When her phone buzzed with Damien's "See you soon," she grabbed her clutch and walked out before she could change her mind.
The rooftop lounge was already buzzing when Elara arrived. String lights glowed warmly overhead, jazz music played in the background, and the city skyline glittered like a diamond necklace beyond the glass railing.
"Elara!" Damien's grin lit up as he moved through the crowd toward her, arms open.
She let him hug her. He smelled like cedarwood and nostalgia. "It's been too long," he said.
"It really has," she replied with a soft smile.
They sat together at a corner table, drinks in hand. Conversation flowed easily. He still made her laugh with his ridiculous impressions, and she couldn't deny the comfort of being around someone who knew her before her life got tangled with the Thorne family.
"So," Damien said, swirling his drink. "How's married life?"
Elara froze.
Damien noticed. "That bad, huh?"
She gave a hollow laugh. "Let's just say it's complicated."
He reached out and touched her hand. "If you ever want out… you know you've got options, right?"
She raised an eyebrow. "Options?"
He leaned in, closer than necessary. "I'm just saying, I was stupid to let you go back then. I don't want to make the same mistake twice."
Before she could respond, a cold voice cut through the air behind her.
"She's not available."
Elara turned sharply—and her stomach dropped.
Xander stood just behind her, dressed in black slacks and a charcoal blazer, his face carved from ice. His eyes didn't leave Damien, and his tone could've frozen lava.
Damien stood slowly. "Xander Thorne. Didn't expect you here."
Xander didn't smile. "Clearly."
Elara stood between them. "What are you doing here?"
"I was going to ask you the same thing," he said, jaw clenched.
"I don't need your permission to go out."
"No, but maybe a heads-up would've been nice."
Damien stepped in. "She doesn't owe you anything, man."
Xander's glare turned lethal. "She's my wife."
Damien's smirk vanished.
The tension was thick enough to slice with a knife.
"I'm leaving," Elara said, grabbing her clutch. She didn't want a scene. "With or without either of you."
Xander didn't argue. He followed.
They didn't speak on the way home. The silence in the car was deafening, charged with unsaid words. When they reached the penthouse, Elara marched straight in, threw her clutch onto the couch, and spun to face him.
"You followed me?"
"You didn't answer your phone."
"I didn't want to."
He raked a hand through his hair, pacing. "Do you know what it looked like? Him touching you like that?"
"Why do you care, Xander?" she shouted. "Why does it matter who I talk to? You said you didn't want emotions in this marriage!"
"I lied!"
The words echoed like gunshots in the room.
Elara froze.
Xander stepped closer, his voice quieter now, but more intense. "I lied, Elara. I thought if I pushed you away, it would protect both of us. But every time I see you with someone else—him—I feel like I'm losing something I didn't even realize I had."
Her breath caught.
"I care," he said, his voice cracking. "More than I want to. More than I should."
Silence stretched, the space between them pulsing.
And then, without warning, Xander reached out and pulled her into a kiss.
It was fire and frustration and longing—all wrapped into one breathtaking moment. Elara's body reacted before her mind could catch up, her hands fisting in his shirt, her lips parting as he deepened the kiss.
But just as quickly as it began, it ended.
They both stepped back, breathing hard.
"That kiss meant nothing," Elara said, more to herself than to him.
Xander didn't answer.
Because they both knew—it meant everything.