She freezes.
Then whispers, “Stop.”
I don’t.
“You want the way I look at you.” My voice stays calm, steady, dangerously soft. “You want the way I talk to you. The way I make you feel.”
Her lips part, barely, but enough.
She tries to speak and fails.
Good.
I keep going.
“You’re scared it’s too fast,” I say. “Too intense. Too much.”
She nods, cheeks flushed. “Because it is.”
“For you,” I agree. “Not for me.”
Her brows pull together in confusion.
“Ruby,” I continue, “I’m a man who built a company from nothing. I know when something is worth investing in.”
Her pulse jumps visibly in her throat.
“And you?” I say quietly. “You’re a risk I’m willing to take.”
She looks at me like she can’t decide whether to run or reach across the table.
“Why me?” she whispers.
Finally.
The question she’s been suffocating on.
I lean in. Close enough that she feels the warmth of my breath, not touching, just… invading her air a little.
“Because when you talk,” I say softly, “I listen.”
She blinks.
“Because when you laugh?” I shake my head slowly. “I forget everything else.”
She inhales sharply.
“Because when I look at you, Ruby…” My voice drops lower, heavier. “There is nothing else in the room.”
Her fingers curl against the table.
“And,” I add, “because you fight this so hard.”
She closes her eyes like the truth hurts.
“You don’t want me to want you,” I say, “but you don’t want me to stop either.”
Her eyes open again, wide, shaken, honest.
