In the evening at Andrew's penthouse, the door opened.
Andrew wasn't expecting her. Not after the way she brushed him off at her boutique.
But here she was.
Standing at his front door in a loose, cropped hoodie and tight joggers, curls tied up in a soft bun, a bag of takeout in one hand, and that same dimpled smile on her face.
"Hope you haven't eaten," Bella said, stepping inside like she owned the apartment. She didn't knock. She never did. She just breezed in, her scent trailing behind vanilla and something floral.
Andrew stood still in his black vest and slacks, whiskey glass in hand.
"I didn't know you were coming," he said quietly.
She walked past him, kicking her sneakers off like this was her living room. "That's the point of surprises."
Andrew watched her move her hips, swaying in those joggers, her bare waist teasing beneath the hoodie hem. Her smile. Her ease. She dropped the takeout bag on his kitchen island, already opening drawers like she'd memorized every corner of his penthouse.
"How was your day?" she asked lightly.
He didn't answer.
She didn't wait for one.
Instead, she grabbed chopsticks, carried the food to the couch, and dropped herself onto the cushions, folding one leg beneath her as though this was just another ordinary evening.
He followed, slowly. But he didn't sit right away.
His chest was tight.
That was when her phone beeped.
Luke.
"Lunch Friday? I know a gallery that'll inspire both our collections. I owe you for the spark today," the message followed by a winking emoji.
Bella smiled. A little too easily.
Luke was charming. Smart. Creative. He had good energy, was playful, and confident.
"I see. I will think about that only if I'm free on Friday," the reply was sent.
She set her phone down beside her and rose, stretching lightly as she paddled towards the kitchen. The soft hum of the refrigerator breaks the silence of the apartment. She bent to grab a bottle of water, her voice carrying faintly as she muttered something about how cold it was. On the table, her phone buzzed again. Pulling Andrew's attention like a magnet, he could no longer resist.
This time, he reached for it.
His fingers closed around the device, heavier than it should have felt in his hand. The screen lit up at once, and there it was, the same name as before. Luke. Another message. "Can't wait to see you Friday. Wear something pretty for me."
Andrew's chest tightened. He scrolled up, his eyes scanning the earlier messages, and that was when the truth hit him: Luke wasn't just any man. Luke was the same stranger from Bella's boutique earlier that day. The one with the silver ring. The one who had made her laugh, who had drawn her attention so easily, while Andrew stood silent in the corner.
His jaw set, a muscle ticking in his cheek. The image replayed in his mind. Bella is talking about his ring. That laugh, that warmth, and now, here it was, continuing beyond the boutique walls, spilling into her private messages, into plans she was making with him.
Andrew gripped the phone tighter. He reminded himself. You have no right. You and Bella are just friends with benefits. That was the rule. That was the agreement. He couldn't claim her, couldn't dictate who she saw, couldn't stop her from meeting Luke on Friday.
And yet…
Yet the thought of her across from that man, smiling, laughing, made something dark twist in his chest. It wasn't just sadness anymore; it was sharper, heavier. Possessiveness. The sound of the refrigerator door shutting snapped him out of his thoughts. Bella's light footsteps padded closer, the faint clink of the water bottle in her hand.
Quickly, Andrew placed the phone back on the table, the screen face down, his expression smoothing into the cool, unreadable mask he wore so well. By the time Bella walked back into the room, he was leaning casually against the couch, as though nothing had disturbed him at all.
She didn't even mention the message. Didn't even ask if he was okay. Didn't seem to care that he was burning alive, trying not to ask about Luke. "Bella."
"Hmm?" she answered, mouth full of noodles.
"I saw your message."
She blinked at him, casually licking sauce from her thumb. "What message?"
"With Luke."
Her brows lifted faintly. "Oh. That. Yeah. He's sweet. We're having lunch on Friday. Just business, though."
Andrew's jaw flexed. "You're sure?"
She looked at him now, really looked, eyes steady. "Are you jealous?" He didn't reply.
That was enough.
Bella let out a soft laugh and patted the space beside her. "Relax, Mr. Monsiago. You need a break. I brought dumplings and noodles. Let's watch something. You look like you haven't blinked since morning."
He hesitated… then sat beside her, his body stiff.
Bella grabbed the remote, brows furrowing in mock seriousness. "Romcom? Horror? Or one of those action movies where every man has a beard and dies in slow motion?" Andrew stared at her.
She was so calm. So careless.
"Whatever you want," he muttered.
"Bold answer." She scrolled for a second, then clicked on a movie without asking. "This one has kissing and blood. Compromise."
The screen lit up. The couch dimmed in the soft glow of the TV. Bella leaned into him, her bare thigh brushing his pants, her fingers grazing the chopsticks as she took another bite.
Andrew sat there, heart pounding, hands tight on his thighs, pretending the heat of her body wasn't killing him.
She wasn't his. She never said she would be. But she was here. On his couch. Watching his TV.
Acting like she didn't own his every thought.
And all he could do.
The movie played on in the background.
He felt her beside him.
Bella, legs folded beneath her, head tilted slightly as she watched the screen like she wasn't the most dangerous thing in the room. The smell of her hair drifted toward him every time she shifted, and he could feel the heat of her skin against his arm.
But all he could hear was her voice from earlier. "Just business, though." Just business.
Just lunch.
Just a message.
And then, as if the universe wanted him to suffer more, her voice cut through the silence.
"Andrew."
He turned slightly, jaw tense. "What?" Her eyes were calm, unreadable.
"How'd you see the message?" A pause. Barely a beat.
He blinked once. "What message?"
Bella's lips pressed into a smile, but it wasn't sweet. It was sharp.
"Don't insult my intelligence."
Andrew shifted, leaning back slightly. "You said it wasn't a secret."
"I didn't say it was. I asked how you saw it. Because it wasn't public. Not on Instagram. Not anywhere."
His throat tightened. "I have ways of knowing things."
She sat up straighter now, eyes locked onto him. "Did you hack me?"
He gave her a smooth, unreadable. "No."
"Did you pay someone to track my messages?"
"Bella..."
"I'm serious."
Her tone snapped. Her eyes flashed. She wasn't laughing now.
"I don't like that, Andrew. You don't get to read my messages. That's a violation."
Andrew's fists curled slightly on his lap, struggling to stay calm. "I wasn't spying. I just wanted to be sure you were safe."
"No!" she snapped. "You wanted to know who I was texting, who I was seeing. And that's not part of what we agreed to." He didn't reply.
She stared at him, hurt simmering beneath her fire. "I don't belong to you, Andrew."
"I know," he said darkly, bitterly. "You remind me every chance you get." The words hung in the air.
Her chest rose and fell, breath shaky. But then...
She sighed.
And leaned into him.
Like nothing had happened.
Like she hadn't just burned through his chest with that rage.
Like she hadn't accused him, scolded him, made him feel like he was nothing more than a possessive fool.
Her cheek pressed against his shoulder, and her fingers casually slid over his wrist. He stiffened.
Completely still.
"You're warm," she murmured like a cat curling against him. "Comfortable." Andrew didn't move.
Didn't speak.
He sat there, raging in silence.
She'd snapped at him.
She was right, and that made it worse.
And now she was leaning into him, soft and calm, as if he should just forget everything. Like she hadn't just called him controlling.
His jaw tightened.
His heart throbbed painfully.
And still…
He let her stay there.
Because despite everything, despite the war in his chest and the anger boiling in his blood… He still wanted her close.
After the movie ended, Bella was already asleep on Andrew's shoulder. The room was quiet. And Andrew carried Bella to the room so they could sleep.