Elina barely slept.
The cold sheets of her bed offered no comfort, her mind plagued by the way Aidan had looked at her. The way his voice softened when he spoke her name. The raw honesty in his words.
But honesty was a dangerous luxury in her world.
By morning, she was back in her office—sharp, poised, surrounded by glass walls and a coffee cup that had already gone cold. The city pulsed below her, alive with its usual rhythm. But inside her chest, something had shifted. A crack in her armor. A flicker of warmth she didn't know how to extinguish.
"Ma'am," Amelia peeked in. "You have a visitor. Mr. Lucas Trent. He says it's urgent."
Elina frowned. Lucas Trent was one of her firm's biggest private investors—sharp, calculating, and notoriously impatient.
"Send him in."
Lucas entered with the confidence of someone used to people folding in his presence. Silver-haired, suit immaculate, eyes gleaming with veiled menace.
"Ms. Lane," he said smoothly. "You've been busy."
She gestured toward the seat across her desk. "Not as busy as you, apparently."
He sat, unbuttoned his jacket, and leaned forward. "I heard you had dinner with Aidan Knight."
Straight to the point.
"I didn't realize my social calendar was of interest to you," she replied evenly.
Lucas chuckled darkly. "Everything about you interests me. Especially when it concerns my investments."
Elina's spine straightened. "Is that a threat?"
"Of course not. Just… curiosity. The kind that comes with watching someone play chess with the enemy."
A beat of silence passed.
"I know what I'm doing," she said quietly.
"I hope so. Because the moment you let emotions get involved, you lose control. And if you lose control, Elina, people like me start reconsidering where we put our money."
She stared at him, her face unreadable. "Is that why you came? To scare me?"
He leaned closer. "No. I came to remind you that you don't get to have both. The throne and the fairy tale? They don't coexist."
She felt the sting of his words long after he left.
---
Hours later, as the sun dipped behind the skyline, Elina walked into her penthouse and locked the door behind her. She kicked off her heels, undid her hair, and for once, allowed herself a moment to collapse onto her sofa.
She hated how his words echoed in her mind. The throne and the fairy tale. Was she really trying to have both?
Her phone buzzed. A message from Aidan.
Aidan: "Just wanted to say goodnight. No pressure. No expectations."
Simple. Gentle. Exactly the opposite of the world she lived in.
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, hesitating. Then she replied.
Elina: "Goodnight, Aidan."
No emoji. No warmth. But the message was sent.
And that alone meant something.
They arrived at her apartment in silence. Elina felt the warmth of the wine, the echo of Aidan's words clinging to her like perfume. The elevator ride up to her floor felt longer than usual, or maybe it was just the weight of what had been said.
Once inside, she slipped off her heels and leaned against the door. Aidan didn't make a move to invade her space. He stayed near the window, gazing out at the shimmering skyline.
"I didn't expect tonight to feel like this," she said softly.
He turned slightly. "Like what?"
"Like... something I might remember."
Aidan walked to her, slowly, as if giving her time to retreat. "I'll take that as a win."
She let out a breath. "This doesn't make things easy."
"Nothing worth having ever is."
She studied his face. The seriousness there wasn't corporate—it wasn't about deals or dominance. It was about her. A woman he saw, maybe truly saw, beyond title and armor.
"You make it hard to stay detached," she admitted.
"Good. I'm tired of pretending that we don't feel this."
He reached for her hand and when she didn't pull away, he threaded their fingers together. The touch was warm, grounding.
But then her phone buzzed.
She hesitated before glancing at it. Her assistant.
Urgent board meeting scheduled. Shareholders unrest. Knight Tech involved.
She froze.
Aidan read the change in her expression. "What is it?"
Her voice was cool, clipped. "Tell me this isn't you."
He didn't lie. That was worse.
She stepped away, fury rising. "I let you in. I let you in, Aidan. And this whole time you've been playing me?"
"It's not what you think."
"Then tell me. Right now. Tell me what I'm supposed to think!"
A beat. Then two.
"The board move wasn't supposed to hit now. I was going to—"
"You were going to what? Sweet-talk me after the takeover? Keep me warm until I figured it out myself?"
"Elina."
She didn't want to hear her name on his lips. Not when it was laced with guilt and regret.
"Get out."
"Elina—"
"I said get out!"
The fire in her voice made him pause—but only for a second. Then he nodded, stepped back, and walked out the door.
When it clicked shut, she sank to the floor, the silk of her dress pooling around her, her chest rising and falling like a wave crashing into jagged rocks.
She had dared to feel something. And he had burned her for it.
Again.