Elijah didn't notice. He never did, not when he was caught up in work. He took the files from me with a distracted smile, already flipping through the pages as he walked toward his office, speaking over his shoulder.
"Perfect timing, Lyra. Kairo, join us. We'll run through the last draft together."
I stood rooted to the spot, my pulse still thundering in my ears. Perfect timing. If only he knew.
I forced myself to move, following after them, but my hands trembled around the empty folder I still clutched. I kept my gaze fixed on Elijah, anywhere but the man walking silently at his side. Still, I could feel him. Kairo's presence filled the narrow hall, heavy, magnetic, impossible to ignore.
The meeting itself was a blur. Numbers, clauses, discussions about strategy—normally I followed every word, sharp and efficient, proud to hold my place in the room. But today my thoughts betrayed me, circling back again and again to the moment in the hall.
"You're avoiding me."
"Some lines… once crossed, can't be uncrossed."
His words sank like ink into my chest, staining everything else.
At one point, I dared to glance sideways. Kairo was leaning back in his chair, hand resting against his jaw as he listened to Elijah speak. His profile was all hard lines and stillness, every inch of him carved from composure. But then—just for a second—his gaze flicked to mine. And in that instant, I knew he wasn't nearly as calm as he looked.
I dropped my eyes to the papers in front of me, heat crawling up my neck.
By the time the meeting ended, I felt wrung out, like I'd run a race no one else could see. Elijah clapped me on the back as we left, his good mood infectious. "Thanks, sis. You've been a lifesaver lately. I'll grab lunch with you soon, okay?"
I nodded, managing a small smile. He didn't notice that my voice came out thinner than usual when I said, "Of course."
Kairo lingered behind as Elijah walked ahead, saying something to his assistant down the hall. For a heartbeat, it was just the two of us again, the silence stretching tight and sharp.
I told myself not to look. Not to give him anything more.
But I did.
And when I met his eyes—steady, unreadable, burning with something I couldn't name—I felt it all over again. The pull. The danger. The inevitability.
I turned away quickly, almost too quickly, and hurried down the corridor.
But the truth clung to me long after: I wasn't avoiding him anymore. I was running.
And sooner or later, I knew… he would catch up.