The moment her assistant left, silence swallowed the office like a vacuum.
I stood frozen, the word husband echoing in my head like a warning bell I hadn't heard until it was too late.
Raina didn't turn around.
She stayed near the window, one hand pressed flat against the glass, the other clenched so tightly the tendons in her wrist strained beneath her skin. Her shoulders rose and fell, but her breathing was shallow—like she was holding back a scream. Or a sob.
I stepped forward slowly. "You're married?"
Her head tilted slightly, like the question irritated her. But she didn't answer.
"You never said anything," I continued, quieter. "You don't wear a ring…"
"I stopped wearing it two years ago," she said finally, her voice low and distant. "When I stopped pretending."
Pretending.
The word struck hard.
"So why is he here?" I asked.
"I don't know," she whispered.
Another beat of silence.
I could feel the heat in the room shift. Not passion this time. Tension of another kind. One born from memory and buried things.
She turned slowly, finally facing me.
And when she did—she looked tired. Angry. Exposed in a way I hadn't seen before.
"I separated from him eighteen months ago. He didn't take it well." She crossed her arms over her chest, shielding herself like armor. "He's tried to ruin a few things. Scare me back into his life. But I've kept him away. Until now."
I stepped closer, ignoring the buzz in my chest. "Is he dangerous?"
She hesitated. That alone was an answer.
I moved until I was just a foot away from her. The sunlight behind her traced the soft outlines of her cheekbones, the small shadow under her throat, the wrinkle between her brows.
"Do you want me to stay?" I asked. "Tonight. At dinner."
Her lips parted. Her eyes softened. "That's not what this is, Aarav. I didn't bring you in to protect me."
"But do you want me to?"
She didn't answer with words. Just a long, slow look that told me more than anything spoken.
She wanted me there.
Not just for work.
Not just for safety.
But for her.
Still, she didn't let the moment live. She stepped back, reclaiming space, boundaries, walls.
"Wear a dark suit," she said. "No tie. I want you relaxed, not stiff."
That last word hung in the air between us. Charged. Loaded.
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.
That evening, I waited downstairs at the entrance of the upscale restaurant she'd chosen. A rooftop place, glittering with soft amber lights and a panoramic view of the city skyline. The kind of place where secrets got whispered in candlelight and desire moved between courses like a second scent.
Then I saw her.
Raina stepped out of the car like a vision sculpted from shadows and satin.
A black dress. Not tight, but devastating. It clung at her waist, then slipped downward like liquid, the neckline soft and deep enough to make my breath catch. Her hair was down, smooth waves framing her face. She wasn't wearing perfume tonight—but the warm scent of her skin in the air was real. Honest. Intoxicating.
She saw me.
Paused.
Then walked toward me slowly, her heels clicking like a countdown in my chest.
"You look…" I tried to find the right word.
She smirked. "Dangerous?"
"More like temptation in human form."
Her eyes flicked over me, from my collar to my cuffs. She liked what she saw.
But she didn't say it.
Instead, she whispered, "Let's not make a scene tonight."
"I'm not the one they'll be looking at," I said, holding the door for her.
We walked in together—close enough to feel the heat radiating off her, but not close enough to touch.
Every minute dragged like a silk thread across bare skin.
Until halfway through the meal—right as I was leaning in to ask if she was okay—he appeared.
Tall. Dark-eyed. With a face that smiled too easily and eyes that didn't.
Raina went still.
The man walked straight to our table like he owned her. Ignored me completely.
"Raina," he said with fake warmth. "Fancy seeing you here."
Her wine glass trembled slightly in her hand. "This is a private dinner."
"I needed to see you. I needed you to hear something."
"Not here," she hissed, lowering her voice.
But he didn't budge. His gaze finally flicked to me, curious, assessing.
"You brought someone," he said, eyes sliding over me with disdain. "Cute."
I stood. Calmly. But with enough presence that he had to shift his weight.
"Maybe you should leave," I said.
He smiled again. But it didn't reach his eyes.
"Oh, I'll leave," he said. "But not before I tell her what she deserves to know."
Raina's breath caught.
I reached out, instinctively, and placed a hand on the small of her back.
Just a touch.
She didn't move.
But her skin flinched under mine. Goosebumps rose along her arms.
He leaned in closer to her, voice low but cutting. "You didn't tell your boy here about the video, did you?"
My fingers curled instinctively, grip tightening on her lower back.
Raina's eyes snapped to mine—wide, startled, pleading.
Whatever he meant… it wasn't good.
The man gave me one last smug look, then turned and walked away, whistling.
I turned to her. "What is he talking about?"
But she didn't answer.
Her hands were shaking.
And then—without warning—she stood, grabbed her purse, and rushed out of the restaurant.
Leaving me in the middle of flickering candles and stunned silence.
And I knew...
That night had just started.