Elara stirred at the sound of her alarm.
She reached for her phone, blinking against the soft morning light filtering through unfamiliar curtains. It took her a moment to remember—
She wasn’t in her apartment.
She was in Lucas’s residence.
The events of the night before came rushing back: the bar, the man from China, the phone call, Lucas’s voice telling her to hide. His offer—quiet but firm—that she stay somewhere safe.
She’d agreed.
Too shaken to argue.
Too tired to pretend she wasn’t.
She sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes, then glanced toward the door.
I didn’t follow his advice. I went somewhere public. Somewhere exposed.
Elara had whispered the words in the car, voice barely audible.
“I’m sorry. I should’ve listened. I shouldn’t have gone anywhere near the apartment.”
Lucas didn’t look away from the road.
But his voice came, low and steady.
“You don’t need to apologize.”
She glanced at him, uncertain.
“I didn’t do what you said.”
He shook his head gently.
“You were scared. You made the best choice you could in that moment.”
A pause.
“That doesn’t make you wrong. It makes you human.”
Elara’s breath caught.
He didn’t say it to comfort her.
He said it because he meant it.
She stood and padded toward the bathroom, the floor cool beneath her feet. After a quick shower, she opened the cabinet and paused.
Folded neatly inside were fresh clothes: a soft cream blouse, tailored slacks, and a light cardigan.
Her brows furrowed.
Whose clothes are these?
They fit her style. Her size. Her comfort.
Does he keep women’s clothes in every residence? Is he always this prepared?
She didn’t know whether to be impressed or unsettled.
But she dressed anyway.
When she stepped out, a female maid greeted her with a polite nod and escorted her to the dining area.
She followed the maid into the dining area, where the morning light spilled across polished floors and minimalist decor.
Lucas sat at the head of the table, dressed in a crisp shirt, sleeves rolled just enough to suggest he’d been up for hours. In one hand, he held a sleek tablet, the screen glowing faintly with a news feed—headlines scrolling in quiet succession.
He didn’t look up immediately.
Does he ever stop working?
Even breakfast feels like a boardroom.
She cleared her throat gently.
Lucas glanced up, eyes softening slightly.
“Good morning.”
“Morning,” she replied, settling into the seat across from him.
He gestured toward the plate already prepared—toast, eggs, fruit, and a small cup of warm chocolate.
“Eat first. Then we’ll head out.”
She blinked.
“You’re offering a ride?”
“We’re going to the same building. It’s practical.”
Elara hesitated, fingers curling around the edge of her cup.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Lucas paused.
“Why?”
“Someone might see us. It’s not… ideal. People talk.”
Lucas’s jaw tightened—just slightly.
But his voice was calm, certain.
“No one talks like that in my building. And if they do, they don’t stay long.”
Elara looked at him, surprised by the quiet finality in his tone.
“Still… I’d rather not risk it.”
He didn’t argue.
But something in his gaze lingered—a flicker of disappointment, quickly masked.
“Fine. I’ll have someone fetch you. Discreetly.”
She met his gaze.
“Thank you.”
He returned to his documents, but his eyes lingered on her for a moment longer than necessary.
And Elara wondered—
Was it really just protection?
Or was the seal starting to mean something more?
Breakfast passed in quiet rhythm.
Elara ate slowly, her thoughts drifting between the warmth of the chocolate drink and the weight of Lucas’s presence across the table. He barely looked up from his tablet, but she could feel him listening—always listening.
When the maid returned to clear the plates, Lucas stood and adjusted his cuffs.
“We should head out.”
She nodded, following him through the sleek hallway and down to the private parking area beneath the residence.
The air was cool.
Dimly lit.
Silent, except for the soft hum of engines.
Two cars pulled up.
One—a matte black sedan with tinted windows—stopped directly in front of Lucas.
The other—a silver executive car—rolled to a gentle halt beside Elara.
She blinked.
Two cars?
That’s when it hit her.
Her refusal to ride with him earlier…
She’d indirectly asked for space.
And Lucas had listened.
She glanced at him, standing beside her in silence.
Before she could speak, Lucas stepped forward and opened the door to the silver car.
He didn’t say anything.
Just motioned for her to get in.
His expression was unreadable.
Not cold.
Not warm.
Just… composed.
Elara hesitated, then nodded and slid into the seat.
As the door closed gently behind her, she turned to look through the window.
Lucas was already walking toward the black sedan.
He didn’t glance back.
Didn’t pause.
Just opened the door, stepped inside, and disappeared behind the tinted glass.
Her car pulled forward first.
His followed.
And as they drove toward Draeven Nexus, Elara sat quietly, fingers curled in her lap.
She hadn’t meant to ask for distance.
But somehow…
She’d gotten it.
And now, she wasn’t sure if that was what she wanted.