Cael stood by the plate-glass window, shoulders rigid inside his tailored navy suit, watching the city’s pulse flicker in the glass. His reflection looked almost vulnerable in the dusk—stray curls falling onto his brow, lips pressed tight as if holding back all the words he never said. Sirae slid up beside him, her slate-gray dress skimming her hips, heels clicking—a little too sharp, a little too assured. She caught his eye with practiced disinterest, but a delicate tremor in her jaw betrayed the tension simmering beneath that composure.

"You have lipstick on your hand," she murmured, voice flat. Cael glanced down, rubbing at the smudge before realizing it was a nervous habit he’d picked up since this ruse began. He tried a wry smile. "Occupational hazard." Sirae didn’t laugh, but the corner of her mouth twitched. Her posture was impeccable—shoulders back, chin up—but her grip on her clutch belied her nerves.

Dinner was all gleaming glassware and practiced small talk, with the CEO’s gaze sharp and appraising from the head of the table. Thalen, in a cobalt suit a shade too bright, burst into the scene mid-toast, carrying a tray of cocktails and a smile that was an open invitation to let down your guard. He dropped a conspiratorial wink at Sirae, then nudged Cael’s elbow with comic enthusiasm. Underneath the banter, Cael resisted the urge to reach for Sirae’s hand, even as his knee brushed hers, heat pulsing between them.

Sirae, for her part, maintained cool detachment—until a lazy swipe of Cael’s thumb along her knuckles made her inhale, just barely. She tamped down the urge to lean in, to ruin her careful mask in front of all these eyes. Thalen filled the lulls in conversation with jokes, stories, a whirlwind of distraction, but every so often he glanced between Cael and Sirae with a look like he’d caught the whiff of something forbidden.

After, in the elevator, the lights were too bright, unflattering, the mirrored walls reflecting every angle of pretense. Cael’s tie was loosened, the top button undone, his breathing shallow. Sirae pressed the button for the lobby, then stared straight ahead, lips parted, jaw clenched. The air felt charged, claustrophobic. He almost said something—anything—to break it. But Sirae reached first, capturing his wrist, spinning him so his back hit the panel. Their mouths crashed together, fierce and hungry.

Her fingers tangled in his curls as he gasped against her lips. Cael’s hand roamed from the sharp angle of her waist to the soft heat beneath her dress, drawing a ragged moan from Sirae as she arched into him. The elevator hummed—a small, private cage suspended in motion. Sirae’s breath hitched as Cael kissed along her jaw, his tongue tracing the quickening pulse at her throat. Her control finally snapped; her nails dug into his shoulder through the fabric of his shirt, delicious pain mixing with desire.

The elevator slowed with a lurch. Sirae’s hips pressed flush against Cael, his hands greedy and desperate as she bit his lower lip. But then—the doors chimed and slid open. A uniformed janitor stood blinking, wide-eyed at the tableau. Sirae stepped back, cheeks flushed, gaze defiant. Cael’s chest heaved, heart racing so loud it drowned out the apologetic mumble. He glanced at Sirae, searching her face for regret, but found only raw confusion and heat mirrored back at him.

Outside, the city rushed by in a blur. Thalen was waiting, leaning against the marble pillar, arms folded. He took in their rumpled clothes, swollen lips, and arched a brow—curiosity and mischief warring in his eyes. "So, you two want to tell me what’s really going on?"

Cael’s hand lingered at Sirae’s waist, frustration and longing fighting for dominance. Sirae met Thalen’s gaze, mask slipping for a single, naked heartbeat. For the first time, the danger felt real—and exhilarating.

As the elevator doors closed, Sirae whispered just for Cael, "Do you want this to be real?" Her voice was trembling, almost afraid of the answer.

Before he could speak, his phone vibrated. A new message flashed on the screen—no sender, just a single line: I know what you’re hiding. Watch your back.

To be continued...