“Why?”
His gaze burned into hers, steady and unreadable.
“Because I want to know.”
“Know what?” she asked, her heart hammering.
“If it’s just me,” he murmured, “or if you feel it too.”
She took a step back. The door was still open—freedom just a breath away.
He didn’t stop her this time.
But he didn’t look away either.
“Unless,” he added, his voice barely above a whisper, “you’re afraid of that, too.”
A thousand responses spun behind herlips.
No.
Yes.
Run.
Stay.
The weight of his gaze pinned her in place like a blade through fabric—holding her there, exposed and trembling.
A wave of resentment crested inside her. Not at him. At fate. At the twisted, cruel thing that was her life. Always a ghost. Always pretending not to want. Pretending she didn’t ache for more.
And still—curiosity. Desire. A wild, dangerous hunger curled low in her belly.
She looked away. Her jaw clenched as she struggled to breathe past the war inside her. Fight or flight. The reflex was muscle-deep. Bone-deep. All her life, she’d run.
She was tired of it.
But she wasn’t selfish. She couldn’t afford to be. To fight meant dragging someone else into her world—and Nikos Aeto didn’t belong in the shadows. He belonged in boardrooms and black-tie events. On yachts, and in the light.
Yet something inside her whispered:Take this. Just once. One memory.
Her gaze slid back to his.
Before she could talk herself out of it, she stepped forward.
She lifted her chin.
Her fingers found his chest, the fabric of his shirt warm, firm against her palms. Her heart thudded wildly as she rose onto her toes and pressed her lips to his.
She had expected a brief kiss. Soft. Simple. Safe.
Like the two he had given her before.
It wasn’t.
He exhaled sharply against her mouth. His hands seized her waist. And then?—
The kiss flamed with a life of its own.
