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I need to focus on what’s coming next.

“I think we should both take a step back and stop sniping at each other, Zayn.”

There it is.

My name on her lips again.

She hands my phone back and rests her now free hand on my leg.

“It’ll be easier to work together. And you can sleep in that apartment with me. I don’t mind at all.”

I’m not convinced the sleeping arrangements would actually be a problem, but I expected them to bother her—not the other way around. Even so, it still doesn’t feel like a good idea.

Not at all.

“Are you sure?” I ask anyway.

I’m exhausted, I’ve got a mountain of emails waiting for me, and all I want is a few hours of sleep before heading to the nearest club with her to map out a plan.

✨

By 6 p.m., we’re still deep in the planning process. The project files and layout designs fill the laptop screen as Selene walks me through everything in real time, showing me exactly how the space will look at the end and where every decorative piece will go.

“And the bar is going to be right here,” she says, pointing to her right.

A smile tugs at my lips as I watch her with attention.

She comes alive when she talks about her work. Every movement is animated, every explanation effortless, as if she can already see the final result standing around us. The excitement shining in her blue eyes is impossible to miss, and it makes it painfully obvious that this is where she belongs.

“What?” she asks, tilting her head when she notices my attentive gaze lingering on her.

“Nothing,” I reply with a smirk. “I think we’re done for today. How about we grab something to eat and head back to the hotel afterward?”

She lets out a soft, quiet laugh.

“I think this is the first time you’ve invited a woman to dinner and a hotel with the intention of actually eating and sleeping.”

The abrupt change of topic catches me off balance, and I tip my head back, laughing.

This new dynamic between us is dangerous.

Too comfortable.

Far too easy to blur boundaries that should remain exactly where they are.

“Let’s eat, Selene.”

That’s all I say, turning to the exit. I don’t need to look behind me to know she’s following.

The sharp click of her nude heels echoes through the still-empty building.

Earlier, when she stepped out of her room and announced she was ready, I could only admire her in silence. Lucky for me, her attention was fixed on her bag as she tried to squeeze a perfume bottle—or whatever that small container was—inside.

She’s wearing a sleeveless orange dress made from a fabric with a subtle metallic sheen that catches the light every time she moves. The warm color makes her skin glow. Bracelets cover both wrists, several rings sparkle on her fingers, and one ear is adorned with delicate moon and star shaped earrings that suit her almost too perfectly. A thin anklet circles her right ankle, drawing my attention to impossibly elegant legs.

Her heels are so high that I instinctively keep an eye on her, expecting a stumble that never comes. Instead, she glides forward with effortless confidence, as though she’s walking barefoot.

And her hair…