The clock struck 9:30 PM as she sat wrapped in a soft blanket, sipping tea. The sound of the city seeped through the windows, soothing her anxiety as he worked late. The sound of keys in the lock made her look up, her face lighting up at the sight of him. He stood in the doorway, his tailored suit slightly wrinkled, his dark eyes meeting hers with a gentleness that masked something unreadable.

“You’re late,” she sneered, standing to greet him.

“I know,” he murmured, pulling her into his arms. She melted into his embrace, catching the faint metallic scent of his cologne.

“Rough day?” she asked, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw.

“You could say that,” he replied with a small smile. “But nothing I can’t handle.”

During dinner, he watched her more than he ate, his gaze intense. “You didn’t write much today,” she noted lightly.

“Busy,” he said smoothly, smiling. “But you were on my mind. Always.”

Later, as she fell asleep in his arms, she didn’t notice his possessive touch or the calculating look in his eyes. She didn’t know about the hidden room filled with monitors that tracked her every move or the lengths he went to protect their happiness.

And as he held her tight, he swore to himself that he would never do that.