"Rose… you need to stop now."
I read the message again.
And again.
But I didn't stop.
It was 6:30 a.m. when my alarm rang.
For a moment, I just lay there—staring at the ceiling, Steve's words echoing in my mind.
Stop now.
Stop what?
The job? The audition? Him?
I exhaled sharply and got up.
No more overthinking.
Not today.
I finished getting ready and grabbed my office bag—then froze.
Right.
The trip.
Steve had mentioned it yesterday.
A "business meeting."
I dropped the bag back onto the bed and hurriedly packed instead.
Clothes. Essentials. Phone charger.
My fingers moved fast—but my thoughts didn't.
They stayed stuck on that message.
When I stepped outside—
Steve was already there.
Waiting.
Leaning casually against the gate like nothing in the world was wrong.
Like he hadn't warned me the night before.
"Ready?" he asked.
I studied his face.
Calm. Composed.
Too normal.
"Yeah," I said finally.
We left for the airport.
The flight was quiet.
Uncomfortably quiet.
Steve sat beside me, scrolling through something on his phone. I tried not to look at him.
Tried not to ask questions.
After a while, exhaustion took over.
My eyes closed.
When I woke up—
my head was resting on his shoulder.
I straightened immediately.
"Sorry," I muttered.
"It's fine," he said.
That was it.
No teasing.
No reaction.
Just… fine.
Something was definitely wrong.
Paris greeted us with cold air and soft sunlight.
Our guide stood waiting, holding a placard.
We followed him to a car and were driven to a hotel.
A four-star hotel.
I stepped inside and stopped.
Everything looked… unreal.
Marble floors. Glass walls. Soft golden lighting.
It was my first time in a place like this.
But when I looked at Steve—
he didn't seem impressed.
Not even a little.
Like he had been here before.
Or somewhere better.
"You're quiet," I said as we headed to our rooms.
"Meeting," he replied shortly.
I smiled lightly. "Relax. Let's enjoy this too, okay?"
He looked at me for a second.
Then sighed. "Yeah. Let's get ready first. I'm starving."
Breakfast was on the top floor.
Our table was near a glass wall overlooking the city.
I stared at the menu.
Nothing made sense.
It looked like math.
"Just pick something sweet," Steve said.
I did.
He ordered effortlessly.
Of course he did.
While we ate, the guide spoke about Paris.
"The city of love," he said with a smile. "And the Eiffel Tower… the symbol of it."
I glanced at Steve.
"Can we go?" I asked softly.
There was a pause.
Then—
"Yeah," he said. "We have time. But we'll need to be back an hour before the meeting."
My face lit up.
Before I could stop myself—
I hugged him.
Tightly.
The moment lasted a second too long.
I pulled back, embarrassed.
He didn't react.
But something in his eyes had shifted.
The Eiffel Tower was…
breathtaking.
No picture could do justice to it.
"Do you like it?" Steve asked.
I smiled.
"No," I said softly. "I love it."
The wind brushed past me as I stepped closer to the railing at the top.
I closed my eyes.
Spread my arms slightly.
For a moment—
everything felt calm.
Like nothing was wrong.
Like the world was exactly where it should be.
Then I felt it.
A gaze.
I turned.
Steve was staring at me.
Not softly.
Not warmly.
Just… watching.
The same way he had that night.
He looked away quickly.
"Let's go," he said. "We're getting late."
The ride back felt shorter.
Quieter.
We barely spoke.
Back at the hotel, I rushed to my room.
We didn't have much time before the meeting.
I grabbed my clothes and started changing quickly.
My heart was still racing—not from the view, but from something I couldn't name.
Then—
the door opened.
I froze.
So did he.
Steve stood there.
For a second, neither of us moved.
Then I turned away instantly, grabbing the nearest thing to cover myself.
"Steve—what are you doing?!" I snapped, my voice breaking between anger and embarrassment.
"I—" he stopped.
For the first time—
he looked… shaken.
"I thought this was my room," he said quickly.
"That's not an excuse!"
"I didn't know—"
"Get out!"
He stepped back immediately and shut the door.
Silence filled the room.
My hands were still trembling.
From embarrassment.
From anger.
Or something else.
I changed quickly this time.
But my mind wouldn't stop.
That look on his face—
It wasn't just surprise.
It was something deeper.
Something I didn't understand.
A knock.
"Rose," his voice came from outside. "We're late."
Normal again.
Like nothing happened.
I opened the door.
He didn't look at me.
Not once.
We walked together.
In silence.
The meeting room was on the top floor.
Different from the rest of the hotel.
Colder.
Darker.
Controlled.
As we entered—
my steps slowed.
My breath caught.
Because sitting inside—
were not businessmen.
Not clients.
Not partners.
They were the same people.
The judges.
From the audition.
My heart dropped.
I turned toward Steve.
Slowly.
He was already looking at me.
This time—
there was no hiding it.
No calm.
No pretending.
"You were right," I whispered.
"This isn't normal."
He didn't reply.
Not immediately.
Then quietly—
almost like a confession—
he said:
"I told you to stop."
And before I could say anything—
one of the judges spoke.
"Miss Rose."
My blood ran cold.
"We were expecting you."