The room was empty.
Not a single trace of Xander anywhere. Not his watch. Not his cologne. Not even a spare jacket thrown lazily on the chair like usual.
Erin blinked at the vacant space as her fingers curled tighter around the edge of her packed bag. It was time to leave.
But Xander wasn't here.
She gathered his belongings and stepped out, hesitant at first, then briskly down the hallway until she reached the lower floors. The tension in her chest grew with every echoing footstep.
She paused only when she reached Cassian's quarters, the Vice President's wing.
The door was ajar.
She knocked twice, then pushed it wider.
"Cassian?"
He looked up from his desk, startled. Too startled.
Erin's gaze swept the room. Neat, as always. Except—he'd just shoved a file under a loose folder, and the edges hadn't settled. Her eyes caught the jagged corner of a document with a seal she didn't recognize.
His hand casually slid over it.
"Miss Lane." He straightened, all polite professionalism now. "Looking for Xander?"
Erin didn't respond right away. Her brows furrowed, lips pressing into a flat line. "Is he still in the office?"
Cassian hesitated. Just slightly.
Then: "No, he went somewhere. Actually… he's expecting you."
"Expecting me?" she echoed.
He rose and gestured toward the driveway. "There's a car waiting. It'll take you to him. He gave me strict instructions. Said it was important."
Her gaze flicked once more toward the half-hidden file, her suspicion refusing to settle. But she nodded. "All right."
...
The soft glow of string lights above the rooftop flickered gently in the breeze, casting golden halos on the elegantly set table. Xander stood several floors beneath it, still inside the building, staring at his own reflection in the mirror of a secluded restroom. His sleeves were rolled halfway up his forearms, collar loose, hair a little messier than usual — he didn't want to look too formal. He didn't want to scare her off with perfection.
Not tonight.
He exhaled slowly and leaned forward, gripping the marble sink with both hands.
Was this too much?
He wasn't sure anymore. Erin had said once — bluntly, annoyingly, but honestly — that his version of winning someone over was far too cold. That takeout dinners at a desk and stolen glances across a boardroom weren't the way to a woman's heart.
So this was him trying.
Not because she asked, but because he wanted to. Because for the first time in a long time, he cared what someone else thought of him — really thought of him, beneath the titles, the empire, the endless expectations.
He thought of her laugh. That quiet one. The one she only gave when she wasn't on guard.
He wanted that laugh tonight.
He pulled out his phone and opened the security feed. She'd arrived just moments ago. She was standing at the ground floor now, taking in the skyline, the stars. Her curls shifted with the breeze, and for a moment, she looked small. Not weak. Just… like someone who hadn't been given many moments to breathe.
Xander lowered the phone and rubbed the back of his neck.
This wasn't just about grand gestures. It was about her. And maybe, selfishly, it was about him needing to know that someone could choose him. Not because of his name or power, not because he demanded it, but because he earned it.
And with Erin, he couldn't demand anything. She didn't work like that. She made him work for every ounce of trust — and damn it, he respected her for that.
"Okay," he muttered to himself, smoothing the front of his shirt.
He started toward the stairs — he didn't want to take the elevator. It gave him a few moments longer to steel himself.
As he reached the rooftop door, he paused, hand resting on the handle.
No mask. No charm turned up to a hundred. Just himself.
He could do that.
He pushed open the door.
And there she was — standing under the soft lights, her back to him, unaware of his presence for a fleeting second.
And Xander Volkov, heir to an empire, terrifying to many… felt his heart stutter like a schoolboy seeing his crush.
He smiled. Just a little.
Then walked toward her.
...
The car stopped at a tall glass building in the city, the elevator already waiting.
By the time the doors opened to the rooftop, a warm evening breeze curled around her ankles, carrying the faint scent of roasted tomatoes, garlic, and—
Was that lavender?
Erin stepped out into golden light and deep blue twilight.
There, under a string of soft hanging bulbs, was a single round table. Elegant white linen. Two chairs. Wine glasses glinting. A bottle chilling nearby.
The view stretched far across the city, the sky melting into indigo.
She almost forgot to breathe.
A flicker of a memory struck her—a similar rooftop, a very different night, ten years ago. No table, no softness, just bodies. Her mother's voice whispering orders. Danger simmering beneath the chaos.
But this wasn't that night. And she wasn't that girl anymore.
Erin blinked the memory away just as the elevator chimed again.
Xander stepped out.
And for a heartbeat, he looked… nervous.
He wore dark slacks, a black shirt rolled to the elbows, and that cologne she always pretended not to notice.
He walked toward her, then paused a few steps away. "You came."
"You didn't give me much choice," she replied, folding her arms. "Cassian made it sound like a national emergency."
"Dinner with me is always a national emergency," he said with a crooked smile.
She snorted. "Well, you went over the top this time."
His smile faltered, just a bit. "Too much?"
Erin tilted her head, considering the lights, the setting, the effort. "No," she said slowly. "Just... surprising."
They sat. The air between them warm but charged.
Plates were served—stuffed ravioli, grilled vegetables, baked salmon with lemon butter.
Xander poured the wine, and she watched him carefully.
"Why this?" she asked.
He met her eyes. "Why what?"
"This," she gestured to everything. "The rooftop, the view, the candlelight."
He shrugged, but it was too rehearsed. "You said the last one was unimpressive."
She leaned forward, raising a brow. "So, what, you're taking notes now?"
His smirk returned. "Only when the feedback comes from someone whose opinion actually matters."
Erin stared at him for a long moment.
Xander wasn't playing the flirt tonight. He wasn't playing anything.
That unsettled her more than anything else.
"You're trying really hard," she said quietly.
"I am."
She reached for her glass. "Why?"
The question hung.
"I thought you said this wasn't how I win someone over," he said, almost like a challenge.
"And it's not," she replied, gaze unwavering. "But I didn't think you were the type to try to win someone over. So now I'm wondering what changed."
He didn't flinch. He didn't smirk.
He just looked at her.
And when he spoke, his voice was low. "I got tired of pretending I didn't want more."
The words landed somewhere between her ribs.
Erin blinked. "And what exactly do you want?"
"You. Complicated or not. Conflicted or not. I want you."
Her lips parted, but no words came.
He leaned back, eyes softer now. "You can make it as difficult as you like. I'm not going anywhere."
She swallowed. "That sounds like obsession."
He laughed—quiet, genuine. "No. If it were obsession, I wouldn't be asking. I'd be demanding."
She looked away.
"I know you don't trust easily," he said. "And I know you probably think I'm doing all this because I can't handle rejection."
Erin's eyes snapped back to him, caught.
He smiled faintly. "You're not wrong. But it's not just that."
The breeze swept between them, soft and heavy with meaning.
"And Lillianne?" she asked, finally.
"Handled," he said simply. "There won't be another scene. She's not my story anymore."
She held his gaze. "Then who is?"
He leaned forward again, fingertips brushing the base of her wine glass.
"You are, if you'll let it happen."
She didn't give him an answer.
But for once, she didn't pull away.
And that was answer enough—for tonight.
Meanwhile…
Back in Cassian's room, the hidden file sat beneath other innocuous paperwork. The cover was stamped with a red seal:
"Celeste Raven — Dossier: Level Ω Clearance"
Cassian stared at it long after Erin left.
And for the first time in years, his hands trembled.