We move inside, footsteps echoing faintly as we cross to the lift. It rises smoothly, glass walls revealing the city unfolding beneath us in layers of light. My stomach flips as the height increases, awe and nerves tangling together.
“This is… incredible,” I breathe before I can stop myself.
Khai’s mouth curves, subtle. “You haven’t seen it yet.”
The doors open directly into his penthouse.
There’s no hallway. No transition.
Just space.
Floor-to-ceiling windows stretch across the far wall, the city laid out beneath them like a living map. Candles flicker along the edges of the room, their glow warm against steel and glass. Music hums softly somewhere unseen, low and intimate.
And beyond it all,
The balcony.
The doors are open, sheer curtains shifting in the breeze, candlelight spilling out into the night. A table is set just beyond the threshold, white linen, polished cutlery, the soft gleam of glassware catching the stars.
My breath catches.
“You did all this?” I ask, turning to him.
“For you,” he replies simply.
The weight of those words settles slowly, dangerously.
As I step toward the balcony, heart racing, the city stretched wide and glittering below, one truth becomes impossible to ignore:
This isn’t just about impressing me.
Khai
I don’t rush her.
I stay where I am and watch as she moves farther into the space, her heels soft against stone, her attention pulled instantly toward the windows. The city stretches out in front of her, lights scattered like stars brought too close to earth. She slows, breath catching, and for a moment she looks… small.
Not fragile.
Just human.
The red of her dress burns against the dark of my home, like she was made to stand here and nowhere else. Candlelight catches in her hair,gilds the curve of her shoulder, the line of her back. She belongs in this space in a way I didn’t expect, like she’s always been missing from it.
A dangerous thought slips in, uninvited.
Every night.
Her here, barefoot on the marble. Her things tucked into drawers. Her presence softening edges I never bothered to dull.
I crush the idea immediately.
Not because I don’t want it.
Because wanting it this fast feels dangerous.
She turns back toward me then, eyes wide, a little breathless, and something in my chest tightens hard enough to hurt. I’ve taken men apart for less than what she does to me without even trying.
I step closer, not touching, never touching, and let my gaze drag slowly over her, deliberate, unhurried.
