It wasn't just outside that was stormy. It was right next to us. It was loud, electric, and ready to destroy everything in its way.

When the thunder hit outside the rooftop windows, it shook the glass like a gunshot. The city was a blur of lights and shades as sheets of rain fell. Inside, things were not any quieter.

He stood at the edge of the living room and looked at me like I was the storm.

"You're not going to sleep on this couch." There is just one bed. Take care of it.

I put my arms across my chest very tightly. "I'd rather sleep on the ground."

He laughed. "I've walked through enemy fire and felt safer than you do."

"Well, maybe you should have married someone whose personality you could deal with."

He moved forward. "Perhaps I didn't marry you because of who you are."

That hurts.

I laughed very hard. "No, you married me to fix things." To get power. For your business."

He didn't say no. They just stared. Again, there was a loud boom of thunder. The lights went on and off.

He ran his hand through his hair. "Listen, I don't want to fight tonight." Take the bed please. "I'm going to sleep on the chair."

"I don't need your fake kindness," I told her.

He walked toward her. "And I don't want another war in my house."

Soon after, the rain cut off the power. When the room went dark, I screamed. In the dark, Julian reached out for me without thinking, and his hands touched my shoulders.

"Simple." "There's just no power."

And I whispered, "I know." I didn't move away, though. I didn't want to accept it, but his touch made me feel grounded.

We sat there in silence, with only lightning strikes for light. I stood up after a while.

"This is stupid." I'll take a bedside table. You choose the other one. Don't talk.

He made a face. "You mean don't touch."

That's right.

We lay on our backs to each other and didn't say a word. But the stress was too much to bear and it was too loud to be quiet. Not light enough for air.

"Are you always this careful?" he asked in a low voice.

"Only with men who kiss me in front of a thousand people and then act like it didn't happen."

It was a sharp breath. "You didn't really push me away."

I rolled over and looked at him in the dark. "That kiss was wrong."

"No, that wasn't it."

His voice made me feel cold. Not because it was cold, but because it was real.

I said in a low voice, "You don't even like me."

"I want you even if I don't like you."

Keep quiet.

A dangerous, suffocating quiet.

My heart beat fast. It hurt me that my body failed me around him. I hated how my breath would catch when he looked at me for too long and how my mind would twist into knots when he got too close.

I asked in a broken voice, "You think I want you?"

"I feel bad that you do that."

I got up. "You think too highly of yourself."

He also got up and turned around to face me. "Tell me that night you didn't feel anything."

I took a breath. "I didn't."

"Liar."

All of a sudden, his hot, eager, wild mouth was on mine. As I kissed him, I gasped and pressed my hands against his chest without pulling away. My mind begged me to stop. My heart begged me to stay.

My chest heaved when I finally broke the kiss.

I yelled, "You can't do that!"

He asked himself, "What should I do?"

"Muddle me up." I don't believe you. "I can't"

He said in a rough voice, "Then don't trust me." "Don't lie to yourself, though."

I moved back and almost fell, so I grabbed the frame for support. "You can't treat me like a puppet when you play with me."

He stood up and said, "You're not a puppet." "You're on fire." I keep getting burned.

"Then stay away."

"I can't."

It was the most powerful thing he had ever said.

I jerked away when he reached for me again.

I said in a whisper, "I'm not ready for this."

He said in a quiet voice, "I know." "But I am."

It was dark, and we both looked at each other. Our hearts were beating too fast and too loud.

Then.... I told them the truth that I didn't want to say out loud.

"I hate wanting you."

Julian's eyes got darker.

The apartment door opened with a creak before he could answer.

Someone in the hall called out.

"I need to talk to you, Julian." Right now."

It made my stomach hurt.

Yes, it was Cassandra.

"Cassandra?" The name cut through the moment like a blade as I breathed.

Julian went cold. He quickly looked at the door and clenched his teeth. "Remain here."

I took his arm. "You didn't tell me she could get into this place."

"She doesn't." His voice was rough and low. "No longer."

Down the hallway, footsteps could be heard. My heart hit my chest hard.

It's Julian. Cassandra's voice was sweet but poisonous. "We need to finish what we started."

He looked at me again, then away. "I'll take care of it."

The covers got tighter around me, and I could hear my heart beating. As he left the bedroom and went into the hall, I snuck up on the door just far enough to hear him.

It's not okay for you to ignore me, she growled.

Julian growled, "I'm no longer yours."

"You were never just mine?" Cassandra lost it. "But she's wrong, Julian." We both know that mistakes can be fixed.

My heart stopped beating.

He didn't answer.

There were no words to fill the silence.

The last hit came from Cassandra: "You think your little contract marriage will protect her?" Do you really believe she won't pay?

I gasped.

The door made a noise. "Aria, we need to talk," Julian said in a low, hard-to-read voice.

The sunlight spilling across the top floor looked like bits of glass. It was too bright, too sharp, as if the world wanted to reveal everything I'd tried to keep hidden.

I sat on the edge of the bed, looking at the crumpled sheets that still held the smell of his cologne. My hands pressed against my knees to stop the shaking. The night before had been a stormrage, words, and a kiss that shouldn't have happened but did anyway.

I heard the low click of the door behind me and felt his presence before I saw him.

"You're awake." His voice was rougher than normal, like gravel under silk.

I turned, heart thudding. "You left without saying anything."

"You were asleep." He moved toward the window, loosening his tie as though daylight itself smothered him. "You didn't seem to want me here."

"I still don't," I said, even as my voice revealed to me with a tremble. "Last night was a mistake."

He leaned against the glass, arms folded. "Then why can't you look at me when you say it?"

I forced myself to meet his eyes. "Because I'm ashamed."

"Of me?" His mouth curved slightly. "Or of yourself?"

I swallowed. "Both."

For a long moment, neither of us spoke. The only sound was the city far belowhorns, sirens, life rushing on without us.

"I warned you about crossing lines," he said softly. "You wrote the clause yourself. No touching."

"You kissed me first."

"You kissed me back." His eyes glinted. "And you liked it."

My chest tightened. "Don't do that. Don't twist this."

"I'm not twisting anything." He stepped closer, every inch of him controlled, aggressive, like a man used to owning his surroundings. "I'm stating facts."

I rose from the bed, the hem of my silk slip brushing my legs. "Facts? You treat me like a contract, a part of your plan. I wanted one second where I wasn't a transaction."

He stopped in front of me, so close the heat of his body licked at my skin. "You're more than a transaction, Aria. That's the problem."

My breath caught. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means," he said, voice falling, "that you're making me forget why I brought you here."

The confession slid between us like a spark. My stomach flipped with anger, fear, and something I refused to name.

"I don't want your confessions," I whispered. "I want the truth. Who are you really? And what happened to Lucas?"

A muscle jumped in his mouth. "Don't ask questions you're not ready to hear answers to."

I pressed my hands to his chest and shoved him back. "Stop trying to scare me. Just tell me!"

His hands caught my wrists not hard, but firm enough to stop me. "Let it go."

"I can't," I said, eyes burning. "I won't."

He let go slowly, as though freeing a dangerous animal. "Then maybe I was wrong about you."

"Or maybe," I shot back, "you're afraid of me finding out who you really are."

Something flickered in his eyes, there and gone. He turned away. "Get dressed. Cassandra's waiting downstairs."

"Cassandra?"

"She wanted to see you. Said it was urgent."

I dressed quickly, heart pounding. Cassandra had been my father's law assistant for years, and one of the few people I trusted at least a little.

The elevator ride down felt like a fall into another world. Cassandra stood by the lobby windows, her dark hair pinned back, her face pale. She didn't hug me. She just took my hands and whispered, "You're playing with fire."

"I already know," I muttered. "You don't have to warn me."

She glanced toward the elevator doors. "He doesn't love. He uses it. That's what he does."

My stomach knotted. "Why are you telling me this now?"

"Because I thought I could protect you." Her voice cracked. "But you're already in too deep."

I squeezed her hands. "Tell me what you know about Lucas."

Her eyes darted to the security cameras. "Not here. They watch everything."

"Then where?"

She pressed a folded card into my hand. "Tonight. Eight o'clock. This spot. Come alone."

Before I could ask anything else, JulianDamienappeared behind me. His hand touched the small of my back, a dominant move that sent heat and warning up my spine.

"Ready?" he asked, tone polite but eyes hard.

I nodded stiffly. Cassandra stepped back, face closed. "Take care, Aria."

Back upstairs, the air between us crackled.

"You like meeting with people behind my back?" he asked, voice low.

"She's a family friend."

"She's a liability."

"She's worried about me."

"I'll decide who you can trust."

I spun to face him. "You don't own me."

He took a step closer, gaze burning. "Then why do you keep looking at me like you wish I did?"

I froze. He reached out, fingers brushing a piece of hair from my face, and for one heartbeat I leaned into the touch before pulling back.

"Don't," I whispered.

He smiled, but there was no fun in it. "You're terrified of what's between us."

"I'm terrified of what you're hiding."

His face darkened. "Careful, Aria. You might not like the truth."

"Try me."

His phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, face going blank. "We're done here. Get some rest."

He left before I could say another word.

Later, in the quiet of the bedroom, I sat on the floor with my knees drawn up, looking at the pamphlet in my hands the one the clinic had given me when I went for tests weeks ago. Prenatal Sonogram: What You Need to Know.

The words blurred as tears pricked my eyes. My secret was a storm forming just beyond the horizon, and I didn't know how to stop it.

The door creaked.

I shoved the paper into a book and snapped it shut just as Julian walked in.

"What are you hiding?" he asked softly.

"Nothing," I said, faking a smile. "It's for my sister. She's... she's pregnant."

He studied me for a long moment, eyes searching my face.

Then, without warning, he stepped forward, crouched in front of me, and plucked the book from my hands.

"Don't lie to me," he said, voice like a blade.

My breath caught. "I'm not."

His eyes dropped to the edge of the pamphlet peeking out from the leaves. Slowly, carefully, he pulled it free.

The room felt too small, the air too thin.

He held the scan paper between two fingers. "Then why," he asked quietly, "does this have your name on it?"

The room was dark except for the city lights bleeding through the glass wall. My back pressed to the cold window, my heartbeat louder than the rain sliding down outside. He stood across from me, jacket gone, tie hanging loose, eyes locked on mine like a storm that had finally reached land.

"You're still lying to me," he said, voice low.

I crossed my arms though my hands shook. "And you're still pretending you don't care."

He moved closer. "Care is dangerous. We had rules."

"I didn't make last night happen," I whispered. "You did."

His jaw clenched. "And you kissed me back."

"You never asked what I wanted."

"Then tell me now." His eyes burned into me. "Tell me to stop."

My lips parted but no sound came. The quiet said everything. His fingers brushed my cheek, and I shivered.

"This is a mistake," I mumbled.

"Then why do you feel like home?" he said, and before I could answer, his mouth found mine.

The kiss started rough, defiance but eased until it felt like a plea. His hands slid to my hips. My fingers twisted in his shirt. All the walls we built cracked with one sound: my gasp against his lips.

"You don't get to own me," I said between kisses.

"I don't want to own you," he breathed. "I want you."

Lightning flashed outside, throwing our shadows across the walls. He lifted me, carried me to the bed we'd been dodging for weeks. My heart raced, not from fear but from the truth I couldn't deny any longer.

"Look at me," he whispered. "Say my name."

I did, and it sounded like a vow I didn't remember making.

Clothes scattered. The air grew hot. Every touch burned through the contract, through the lies, through the careful space we had kept. It wasn't business anymore; it was needed, raw and urgent. He traced my jaw with his thumb.

"I swore I wouldn't cross this line," he said.

"You already did."

His face rested against mine. "Then there's no going back."

I pulled him down, heart breaking and flying at once. "Then don't stop."

Later, the city was silent again. His arm was heavy across my waist, his breath warm on my neck. I stared at the ceiling, trembling not from what had happened, but from what it meant. One rule was broken. Nothing about our deal was safe now.

He stirred behind me. "Stop thinking," he whispered.

"I can't."

"You'll regret it in the morning."

"Will you?"

A pause. "I already do."

I rolled to face him. His eyes were softer than I'd ever seen. "Then why?"

"Because I can't stay away from you." His thumb brushed my lower lip. "And because you keep looking at me like you see the man I was before all this."

"Who is that?" I whispered.

He didn't answer. He just kissed me again, slow and aching, like goodbye and hello at once.

The morning light was cruel. I slipped from the bed quietly, skin still marked by his touch. My reflection in the mirror looked like a stranger, hair messy, eyes too bright, mouth swollen from his kisses.

I opened the dresser to grab my clothes. Something small and familiar caught my eye. My heart stopped.

The packet of birth control I'd bought weeks ago lay unopened in the drawer, exactly where I'd left it. Every pill untouched.

I stared at it, the implications slamming into me harder than any confession could.

Behind me, his voice came low and rough. "What are you looking at?"

I snapped the drawer shut, forcing a smile he couldn't see. "Nothing."

He stepped closer. "You're shaking."

"I'm fine."

His hand landed on the drawer. "Open it."

I froze.

"Open it," he repeated, softer now, but his tone was a warning, a promise, and something else fear.

I turned slowly, heart hammering. "Why would you even"

He cut me off, eyes sharp. "Because if what I think is true..." He swallowed hard. "Everything changes."