POV: Alexander Kane
The car hummed through the night, Brooklyn's jagged edges fading into the Long Island Expressway's blur. Elena sat beside me, her duffel clutched tight, her jaw set like she was ready to bolt again. The emerald dress still clung to her curves, a cruel reminder of that kiss on the gala balcony: her lips soft, then fierce, unraveling me in a way I hadn't planned. Now, her eyes were daggers, cutting through the dim light. She'd given me one chance, but trust? That was a long way off. And yet, the air between us crackled, heavy with something neither of us could name.
I gripped the wheel, my knuckles white, trying to focus on the road and not the heat radiating from her. Victor's text burned in my pocket: My turn. He was circling, a shark smelling blood, and Elena was caught in the middle. I'd screwed up, letting her see that email, letting her think she was just a bet. She wasn't. Not anymore. Maybe never. But how do you convince a woman you've already burned that your heart's beating out of your chest for her?
"Stop staring," she snapped, her voice low but sharp, slicing through the silence. She didn't look at me, her gaze fixed on the passing headlights.
"I'm not staring," I lied, my eyes flicking back to the road. But I was. Her profile: sharp cheekbones, full lips, the stubborn tilt of her chin, was a magnet. Even furious, she was breathtaking.
"Right." She shifted, crossing her arms, the dress pulling tight across her shoulders. "Just drive, Alexander. And don't think that puppy-dog act back there means I'm falling for you again."
Again. The word hit like a spark. She'd felt something before the email, before the betrayal. That kiss wasn't just me. "You can't deny what happened on the balcony," I said, keeping my voice steady, though my pulse wasn't. "You kissed me back."
Her head whipped toward me, eyes blazing. "A mistake. Temporary insanity. You were a job, Kane. A paycheck. Nothing more."
"Bullshit." The word slipped out, rougher than I meant. I pulled the car onto the shoulder, tires crunching gravel, and turned to face her. The interior light cast shadows across her face, highlighting the fire in her expression. "You felt it, Elena. Same as me. That wasn't just a kiss. It was..."
"Stop." She leaned forward, so close I could smell her perfume: jasmine, warm and dizzying. Her breath hitched, betraying her. "You don't get to rewrite this. You bet on me like I was a horse at the track. You don't get to pretend it's love now."
I reached for her hand, but she pulled back, her fingers brushing mine for a split second. That touch; electric, fleeting, sent a jolt through me. "It's not pretend," I said, my voice low, raw. "The bet was a mistake, a stupid game with Victor. But you? You're real. You're in my head, Elena. Every damn second."
Her lips parted, just enough to show she wasn't immune. Her eyes searched mine, wary but flickering with something softer: desire, maybe, or the ghost of what we'd started. The car felt too small, the air too thick. I wanted to pull her across the seat, kiss her until she believed me, until the walls she'd built crumbled. But I stayed still, letting the silence stretch, letting her feel the weight of my words.
"You're good at this," she said finally, her voice quieter, almost breaking. "The charm, the intensity. But I've got too much to lose, Alexander. My family's hanging by a thread. I can't afford to fall for lies."
"Then let me prove it's not a lie." I leaned closer, not touching her, but close enough to feel the heat between us. My voice dropped, a plea wrapped in steel. "Stay with me. Work with me. Let me show you who I am, not who Victor made me out to be."
Her breath caught again, her chest rising and falling too fast. For a moment, I thought she'd lean in, close the gap, let the tension snap. Instead, she turned away, staring out the window. "Drive," she said, voice tight. "Get me to the mansion. I'm staying for answers, not for you."
I swallowed the urge to argue, starting the car again. The road stretched dark and endless, mirroring the ache in my chest. She was here, beside me, but miles away. And yet, every glance, every sharp word, only pulled me deeper. I'd spent years building walls, after Mom and Dad's crash, after the betrayal of friends who wanted my money, not me. Elena was different. She didn't want my wealth, my name. She wanted truth. And damn if I wasn't desperate to give it to her.
The mansion loomed as we pulled through the gates, its glass walls glowing under the moon. I parked, and she was out before I could open her door, duffel slung over her shoulder. "I need my own space," she said, not looking back. "No more shared dinners. No more games."
"Elena" I started, but she was already halfway to the guest wing, her silhouette sharp against the lights. I followed, keeping my distance, every step a battle not to grab her, pull her close, make her see.
At her door, she paused, hand on the knob. "What's Victor's deal with my family?" she asked, voice low, dangerous. "You said he's connected to the loan sharks. Tell me everything."
"I don't have proof yet," I admitted, hating how weak it sounded. "But Victor's dirty. Always has been. I'll dig into it: his contacts, his deals. If he's tied to your debt, I'll find out."
She turned, her eyes locking on mine, and for a second, the anger softened. "You better. Because if you're playing me again, Alexander, I'll ruin you myself."
The threat shouldn't have sent a thrill through me, but it did. She was fire, and I was already burning. "I believe you," I said, stepping closer, my voice dropping to a whisper. "But you're wrong about one thing. This" I gestured between us, the air electric with unspoken want, "isn't a game. Not to me."
Her lips parted, and for a heartbeat, I thought she'd step toward me, let the tension break. Instead, she shook her head, a ghost of a smile; sad, guarded. "Goodnight, Kane."
The door clicked shut, leaving me in the hallway, heart pounding. My phone buzzed, another text from Victor: She's smarter than you, Kane. You're screwed. I deleted it, jaw tight. He was wrong. I'd win her back, not for the bet, but because I couldn't imagine letting her go.
The ocean roared below, and I stood there, staring at her door, knowing I'd fight like hell to prove it.