KISS'S POV
A few weeks passed.
Not dramatically.
Not loudly.
Just… carefully.
Too carefully.
Every morning, I arrived at Goodwill International fifteen minutes early.
Every evening, I left exactly on time.
No lingering.
No accidental touches.
No late-night conversations.
And Adrian Goodwill made sure of it.
He became professional in a way that was almost cruel.
Our conversations were reduced to emails, short instructions, clipped sentences delivered across his desk without looking directly at me for more than a second.
"Schedule moved to Friday."
"Resend the contract."
"Cancel my afternoon."
That was all.
No teasing.
No intensity.
No charged silences like before.
Yet somehow… it was worse.
Because every time I handed him a file and our fingers almost brushed, my heart stuttered like it forgot its rhythm.
Every time he passed behind me, his presence alone was enough to make my skin prickle.
We were pretending nothing had happened.
And we were both lying.
I caught him watching me once—just once—through the glass wall of his office.
His expression was unreadable.
But his eyes?
They burned.
I looked away first.
Not because I didn't want to see him.
But because I was afraid of what I'd do if I didn't.
---
ADRIAN'S POV
Distance was necessary.
It was also torture.
I enforced strict boundaries—not because I didn't want her, but because I wanted her too much.
Kiss Hilson had become a liability.
Not to the company.
To me.
I refused to be alone in a room with her longer than required.
I avoided late meetings.
I delegated tasks I could have handled myself.
Isaac noticed.
"You're acting like a man on a hunger strike," he said one evening.
I didn't respond.
"You think distance will kill the feelings," he continued. "It won't. It'll sharpen them."
I knew that.
Every night, I replayed that kiss like a punishment.
The way she had frozen—then softened.
The way her breath had hitched against my mouth.
I clenched my jaw.
She worked for me now.
I had power over her future.
That alone was reason enough to stay in control.
And yet—
Every time Chris Blackwood's name appeared on a report…
Every time I heard she had left the building for coffee…
Something dark coiled tighter in my chest.
---
KISS'S POV
Chris was… different.
Where Adrian became colder, Chris became warmer.
Not in an overwhelming way.
In a steady way.
We met at the café across the street from my apartment—always casual, always safe.
Coffee. Light conversation. No pressure.
"You look tired," Chris said one afternoon, studying me over his cup.
"Work," I replied.
He smiled knowingly. "Work, or work?"
I rolled my eyes. "You're not funny."
"I'm observant."
He never asked about Adrian directly.
That was what made him dangerous.
Instead, he asked about me.
What music I liked.
What my mother had been like.
What I wanted once everything stopped being so complicated.
And slowly… I found myself answering.
But Chris never crossed a line.
He kept his hands to himself.
Kept his distance.
Kept his charm light.
Which made me lower my guard.
---
CHRIS'S POV
I knew better than to rush her.
Adrian Goodwill thrived on reaction.
On possession.
On control.
I wouldn't give him that satisfaction.
Kiss was… fragile in ways she didn't see. Strong in ways she didn't believe.
And if I wanted more than friendship—
I'd have to earn it without triggering Adrian's instincts.
That was the rule.
I watched her laugh at something small, the tension briefly leaving her shoulders.
"I don't want to be your escape," I said suddenly.
She blinked. "What?"
"I want to be your choice," I continued calmly. "When you're ready."
Her gaze softened.
"I appreciate that," she said quietly.
And I meant it when I replied—
"I'll wait."
But waiting didn't mean retreating.
It meant positioning.
---
ADRIAN'S POV
The day I realized I was losing ground came without warning.
I exited a late meeting and saw her across the lobby.
Laughing.
With Chris.
She looked relaxed.
Happy.
Something cracked.
I stopped walking.
Isaac followed my line of sight and sighed. "You can't glare him into disappearing."
"I can make his life inconvenient," I said coolly.
"That's not the same."
I watched as Chris leaned in—not touching, not invading.
Just present.
And Kiss didn't pull away.
That night, I poured a drink I didn't finish.
Because for the first time, I understood something terrifying.
Chris wasn't playing my game.
He was playing hers.
---
KISS'S POV
I tried to tell myself I was imagining the tension.
That the way Adrian's voice dropped when he said my name was accidental.
That the way he avoided looking at me was professional.
But some things couldn't be ignored.
Like the day he called me into his office after weeks of distance.
He didn't offer me a seat.
"Have you been seeing Chris Blackwood often?" he asked flatly.
The question stunned me.
"That's not appropriate," I replied carefully.
His jaw tightened.
"Answer the question."
I lifted my chin. "Yes."
Silence.
Then—
"You should be careful," he said quietly.
I laughed softly. "You sound concerned."
"I'm warning you."
"Why?" I asked. "As my boss—or as something else?"
His gaze snapped to mine.
And for a moment… the restraint slipped.
"Because if I stop holding back," he said slowly, "someone will get hurt."
My heart thundered.
"Who?" I whispered.
His eyes dropped to my lips.
"Everyone."
The room felt too small.
Too charged.
I turned and left before either of us crossed a line we couldn't erase.
---
CHRIS'S POV
When Adrian warned her, I felt it.
Not through words.
Through timing.
Through pressure.
Through the way Kiss grew quieter around me.
I smiled anyway.
Goodwill thought distance would save him.
But distance only teaches people what they miss.
And what they choose.
The trap wasn't mine.
It was his.
---
KISS'S POV
Weeks passed.
Nothing happened.
And yet—
Everything did.
Because restraint was becoming desire.
Silence was becoming hunger.
And every choice I made felt heavier than the last.
I stood between two men.
One who watched me like a storm he was afraid to unleash.
And one who waited like patience itself was a strategy.
And deep down…
I knew the calm wouldn't last.
Because distance, no matter how carefully maintained—
Always breaks.