CHAPTER EIGHT — CLOSE ENOUGH TO FEEL
The morning light crept through the Donovan Tower windows, painting the penthouse in shades of gold and steel. Emilia sat at the breakfast counter, trying to focus on the steaming cup of coffee before her. But her mind was already elsewhere—on last night's threat, on Lydia's message, on the storm that seemed to follow her into every room she entered.
Ares appeared silently, as if materializing from the shadows themselves. He didn't greet her. He didn't smile. He simply stood there, observing.
"You've been tense," he said, voice low, controlled, but not unkind.
"I'm fine," Emilia replied, though the lie felt fragile and hollow.
His gaze pinned her, stormy and sharp. "Do not lie to me, Emilia," he warned softly, almost a whisper, yet it carried a weight that pressed against her chest.
She swallowed, recalling Rule #1. "I… I'm thinking about today's schedule."
"Good," he said, moving closer, his presence filling the small kitchen space. "Focus. Everything else is a distraction."
---
An Unexpected Task
The morning briefing revealed a sudden change in the schedule. A private charity event, exclusive, high-profile, with guests who could influence corporate dealings.
"You'll accompany me," Ares said, his tone leaving no room for debate. "And you'll follow instructions exactly as given."
"Yes, sir," Emilia replied, feeling the old flutter of nerves in her stomach.
He leaned closer for a fraction of a second, just enough for her to feel the faint warmth of his cologne. She shook off the awareness that her pulse had just doubled.
"Travel light," he murmured, gesturing toward the small black bag she had prepared. "Efficiency is key. Remember your rules."
Her lips pressed into a thin line. Rule #5: Maintain the appearance of closeness. And it was about to be tested like never before.
---
The Charity Gala
The venue was extravagant, a ballroom filled with chandeliers, crystal, and whispers. Emilia felt the weight of every eye in the room, every evaluation silently directed at her.
Then Lydia appeared.
"Ah, the little shadow," Lydia said, her tone dripping with mock sweetness. "I wondered if you'd show up."
Emilia's fingers clenched around the clutch in her hand, but she kept her composure. Ares was already beside her, a wall of controlled dominance. His hand brushed lightly against hers—not guiding, not protective—but a subtle, deliberate warning.
"Do not test me," his gaze said without words.
Lydia smirked. "Of course."
Emilia reminded herself: Presence is not permission. Closeness is survival.
---
Rule #5 in Full Motion
Throughout the event, Emilia followed Ares's subtle cues: stand slightly to his left, tilt her body toward him, keep her gestures measured. Every touch, every glance, had meaning.
At one point, she accidentally bumped into him in the hallway. Her stomach flipped. He didn't scold her, didn't raise his voice. Instead, he pressed just slightly closer, enough to steady her.
"You must be precise," he murmured, his lips brushing her ear. The warmth of his breath sent shivers down her spine.
Her pulse raced. She forced herself to breathe slowly, to focus on the rules. Closeness. Presence. Obedience. Not attraction. Not desire.
---
A Private Moment — Tension Unspoken
Later, after the event, Ares led her to a quiet corridor away from the crowd. The air between them was charged, a taut thread of control and something else—something neither of them acknowledged.
"You're improving," he said, voice low. "But there's more you need to understand."
"What do you mean?" Emilia asked, trying to keep her voice steady.
He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he studied her like she was a puzzle he had not yet decided to solve. "Not everyone who appears to be a threat is visible," he finally said. "And some secrets… are closer than you realize."
Her heart skipped. She wanted to ask, but Rule #1 reminded her to be honest. She wasn't lying about her curiosity, but fear made her hesitate.
"Will I ever… know?" she whispered.
He leaned closer, close enough that the space between them crackled. "Perhaps. When the time is right."
---
Lydia's Sabotage Escalates
The next morning, a small envelope arrived on her breakfast tray. No note, no explanation, just the initials L.H.
Inside: a photograph of Emilia and Ares at the gala, candid and intimate, taken without their knowledge. A single word was scrawled in red:
Watch.
Her stomach dropped. Lydia wasn't just playing games anymore—she was escalating.
Ares's eyes darkened as he studied the photograph. He didn't speak at first. When he finally did, his voice was low, controlled, but lethal:
"She's testing boundaries. You stay close. You obey. And you never, ever engage without my direction."
"Yes, sir," Emilia said, swallowing hard. Her hands trembled slightly as she held the envelope.
---
First Intimate Tension Moment
Later, in the privacy of the penthouse, Emilia tried to unwind, but the tension from the day clung to her. She sat on the edge of the couch, running her fingers over the black folder, going over rules in her mind.
Ares appeared silently behind her, leaning slightly over the back of the couch. The air between them was charged, heavy with unspoken words.
"You're learning," he said, voice low.
"I… I think so," she admitted, feeling heat creep into her cheeks.
He moved slightly closer, close enough for her to feel his presence—his warmth, the subtle power radiating from him. It was intoxicating. Dangerous. And utterly confusing.
"You must understand," he murmured, almost to himself, "that presence is more than proximity. It's intent. And intent… can be overwhelming."
Her breath caught. She wanted to step back, but something in her kept her rooted in place.
"You're close enough to feel, yet not close enough to touch," he said, his stormy eyes locked on hers. "Do you understand?"
"Yes," she whispered, voice trembling, though her heart screamed otherwise.
---
Cliffhanger — A New Threat
Just as she began to steady herself, a knock echoed through the penthouse. She froze.
Ares's hand was on her shoulder instantly. "Do not open it," he said, his tone sharp.
But she had already turned. The envelope lay on the marble counter, unmarked. She hesitated, then opened it.
Inside:
Ares Donovan's past is not buried. Neither is yours.
Her pulse spiked. The message was clear. Danger was no longer abstract—it was personal, immediate, and closer than ever.
Ares's jaw tightened. "Show me everything," he demanded.
As Emilia handed him the envelope, their fingers brushed. A spark shot through her—electric, undeniable.
And one thought slammed into her mind, cold and thrilling:
This arrangement wasn't just rules and survival anymore. It was becoming something far more complicated… far more dangerous… and far more impossible to resist.