He didn't sleep.
Again.
It wasn't the garden air, or the cold, or the silence.
It was her voice.
Touch me.
I didn't ask what you should.
And the look in her eyes—equal parts dare, wound, and wildfire.
He could still feel the shape of her collarbone against his fingertips. The softness of her skin. The heat of it. The way her breath had hitched when he got too close and didn't pull away.
She didn't want safety.
She wanted surrender.
And that made her the most dangerous thing he'd ever had to face without being in a combat ground.
***
By morning, he'd made a decision.
He couldn't pull back.
But he could slow down.
Control the pace, even if he couldn't control the pull.
He needed to refocus.
Which meant distance.
Which meant... a lie inside the lie.
***
He skipped breakfast.
Watched the cameras. Checked the estate perimeter. Called his contact for an update—one that didn't come.
Langford Security was still pretending he was just the specialist sent in to watch the heiress while her father handled the bigger game.
They didn't know he was the game.
That he was the endgame.
That this whole charade was building toward a signature that had been written when he was thirteen and she was just a name in a file.
Now she was a storm he couldn't look away from.
And soon, she'd find out who he really was.
But not yet.
***
He saw her that afternoon.
Sunlight falling through the hallway windows, catching the hem of her silk blouse like it had been made to move with her.
She was on the phone. Talking low, laughing at something fake.
But when she saw him?
Her voice changed.
Sharper. Looser.
Not warm.
Not cold.
Curious.
Calculating.
He slowed.
She ended the call with a smile that didn't reach her eyes.
Then: "You're avoiding me."
"I'm working."
"You know your job is to protect me from threats, not from yourself."
She stepped closer. Her tone sharpened.
"You're hiding something."
He held her gaze. "Maybe I just don't want to give you the satisfaction."
She stepped forward.
Close again. Like she wanted to make the game harder.
"You were going to kiss me last night."
"I still could."
Her breath caught.
But she covered it with a smirk. "Timing's everything."
He stepped closer. "Then let me know when it's right."
"You'll be the first to know," she said.
Then walked off.
And this time?
He didn't watch her go.
He turned and left first.
Because wanting her was no longer the problem.
It was needing her that would destroy them both.
***
Later that night, Jaxon left the estate.
No one noticed.
They never did when he didn't want them to.
He drove thirty minutes outside the city, to a private airfield no one tracked but everyone with power knew existed.
He wasn't meeting a contact.
He was meeting someone worse.
Someone who knew him too well to lie to.
***
Reid Mathis was already waiting by the hangar—leaning against a matte black sedan, cigarette in one hand, sunglasses on even though it was nearly dark.
"You look like hell," Reid said.
Jaxon didn't respond.
Reid tossed the cigarette. Crushed it beneath his boot.
"So. You're either in love or compromised."
Jaxon crossed his arms. "Same thing."
Reid laughed once, bitter and sharp. "She still doesn't know?"
"No."
"She suspects?"
"Definitely."
"You going to tell her?"
Jaxon stared out at the tarmac.
No planes. No wind.
"I don't know."
"You're running out of time."
"I know."
Reid stepped closer. "You remember what your father said? If you don't choose her, the deal's off. And if she chooses to walk?"
Jaxon didn't answer.
He didn't need to.
The stakes weren't just business anymore.
This wasn't a merger.
It was a battlefield disguised as a wedding.
And Aria Langford wasn't a pawn. She was the piece that flipped the board.
***
"She's not what I expected," Jaxon said finally.
"No one ever is until they start breaking you open."
Reid tilted his head.
"You falling for her?"
Jaxon met his eyes. "I don't know."
Reid let out a low whistle. "I'd advice you tell her."
"She'll hate me."
"She might."
"She should."
Reid shrugged. "So let her. Better to be hated for what you are than loved for what you pretended to be."
Jaxon nodded once. "That's the problem. I'm not pretending anymore."
Reid clapped him on the shoulder. "Then stop standing in the hallway. Start telling the truth."
***
Jaxon drove back to the estate with the windows down and a storm in his chest.
He passed the gates quietly.
The lights in her wing were still on.
He didn't go to her room.
Didn't knock.
But he stood at the foot of the staircase for a long time.
Looking up.
Wanting.
Hating that he couldn't move.
And worse—knowing she'd probably be awake, staring at her ceiling, waiting for a door that wouldn't open.
He turned away from the stairs.
He had to.
One more second standing there—just one—and he might've gone up. Might've knocked on her door. Might've said something he couldn't unsay. Something that would change everything.
You were promised to me before either of us had a choice.
You were the plan before I even knew what I wanted.
And now you're more than all of that.
But instead...
He forced himself to walk.
Each step away from her door felt heavier than the last.
Down the long hall.
Past the flickering light that always hummed but never got fixed.
Into the dark.
Into silence.
Into control—the kind that burned just beneath the surface, sharp and bitter like a secret he didn't want to keep but had to.
His hand curled into a fist at his side. It was the only way to stop himself from turning back. From choosing the reckless, selfish truth over the calculated distance he'd promised to keep.
He made it halfway to his room before the stillness broke.
His phone buzzed.
Once.
A single vibration in the quiet, slicing through the moment like a whisper too loud to ignore.
He stopped.
Didn't move.
Didn't breathe.
And for a second, just a second, the urge to turn back was stronger than anything he'd felt all night.