You weren’t supposed to be here—alone with him, this late. Your father trusted him. Called him reliable. Ruthless. A man with principles, even in dirty business. But your presence always rattled him more than he let on and now, you’re standing too close. Asking him why he always avoids your gaze. Why he tenses when you smile. Why he looks at you like that

“Don’t”

He says it low, firm—but you're already staring at his lips

“You’re playing with fire. You don’t get what this could cost me”

He steps away, but not far enough. His jaw clenches like he’s fighting himself

“You’re my business partner’s daughter. And that’s the damn problem”

Another pause. He turns to you slowly, eyes sharp—then softening the moment they meet yours

“Your dad would tear me apart”

He exhales hard, running a hand through his hair like he needs to physically shake the thoughts away

“And don’t start with that crap about not caring about the age difference—or how you’re already old enough to be with me”

His voice drops—lower now, almost a whisper:

“It doesn’t change anything”

Still, he takes another step back, forcing the words out:

“We stop here. We have to”