The project took them to Paris.
For Elena, it was a dream come true—walking the cobbled streets, sketching inspirations from historic architecture, breathing in the romance that clung to the city like perfume.
For Alexander, it was just another city to conquer.
Yet, in Paris, something shifted.
One evening, after a long day of site visits, Elena found herself standing on the balcony of her hotel room, the Eiffel Tower glittering in the distance. The night was cool, the city alive with music and laughter.
A knock on the door startled her. When she opened it, Alexander stood there, his expression unreadable.
"I wanted to discuss tomorrow's schedule," he said. But his eyes lingered on her more than necessary, taking in her loose hair and the silk robe she'd thrown on.
She swallowed. "Couldn't it wait until morning?"
"Some things shouldn't wait." His voice was low, carrying an edge of something dangerous.
They ended up on her balcony, the Paris skyline glowing around them. For once, there were no contracts, no sketches—just silence, broken only by the sound of their breaths.
Alexander's hand brushed against hers as he leaned on the railing. She should've pulled away. Instead, she froze, every nerve in her body alive.
"Elena," he murmured, her name a forbidden caress on his lips.
Their eyes met, and the air between them ignited.
For one breathless moment, she thought he would kiss her. She wanted him to. She hated that she wanted him to.
But then Alexander pulled back, his control snapping into place. "Good night, Miss Carter."
And just like that, he was gone, leaving her trembling under Paris's starlit sky.