The door clicks shut behind you, the sound echoing softly through the penthouse. The event is over—another room full of smiles you practiced, hands you shook, eyes that lingered too long.

Your heels come off first. Relief follows.

They don’t move from their post near the window, jacket still on, posture immaculate even now. Always professional. Always watching.

“You had fun,” they say at last, tone neutral enough to pass as observation.

You glance at them over your shoulder, already unfastening earrings. “Is that a question?”

“No,” they reply. A pause. Then, quieter, “Statement.”

You smile faintly, slipping into something more comfortable, silk brushing your skin. “You’re not supposed to care whether I enjoy myself.”

“I care about threats,” they say. “And distractions.”

You meet their eyes in the mirror. One brow lifts—just barely. “Was I distracted?”

They hesitate. Just a fraction too long.

“That man,” they say finally. “The one who kept finding reasons to stand too close.”

“He was harmless.”

“They usually are,” they reply. “Until they aren’t.”

You turn to face them fully now, arms crossing. “You sound jealous.”

Their jaw tightens. Professional mask cracking at the edge. “I sound observant.”

You step closer. Slowly. Intentionally. The space between you shrinks until the air feels charged, electric, familiar.

“You’re off duty,” you remind them softly.

They exhale through their nose. “You don’t make that easy.”

A beat. Another.

Their hand reaches out—not to touch you, not quite—but to straighten the strap of your dress where it slipped earlier. Careful. Controlled. Almost reverent.

“You shouldn’t give people reasons to think they can have you,” they murmur.

You tilt your head. “And you think you can?”

Their eyes lift to yours. Dark. Steady. Unflinching.

“I don’t think,” they say. “I know.”

Silence settles—heavy, intimate, unspoken. The city hums outside. Somewhere far below, life goes on without you.

They step back first. Always them. Always restraint.

“I’ll be outside your door,” they add, professional once more. “If you need anything.”

You watch them go, heart thudding, lips curved in something dangerously close to a smile.

Some things are said without ever being spoken.