The first light of morning crept through the windows, soft and golden, painting the room in delicate warmth.
Emilia stirred slowly, reluctant to leave the cocoon of blankets, the quiet rhythm of Sebastian's breathing beside her. For a brief moment, she forgot the world. Forgot her last name. The boardroom. The secrets.
Here, she was simply Emilia. Just a woman with bare skin against bare skin, a heart cracked open in the dark.
She turned gently, studying the way the light hit his face—how peaceful he looked in sleep. One hand still rested over her waist, protective even in dreams.
She smiled, brushing a fingertip along his jaw. He didn't wake, but he shifted slightly, pulling her closer in a half-conscious gesture that melted something deep in her chest.
But the moment couldn't last forever.
Her phone buzzed quietly from where she'd left it near her purse. She ignored it at first. Then came the second vibration. And the third.
Responsibility was calling—loudly, persistently.
She slipped out of bed as quietly as she could, gathering her things with a care that bordered on reverence. As she dressed, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror by the door.
She looked... different.
Not flawless. Not composed.
But alive.
A warmth still lingered in her skin, her lips slightly parted as if she were still holding onto a dream. She touched her hair, smoothed her dress, then paused—turning back toward the man still sleeping in her bed.
No. His bed.
She stepped closer, leaned down, and kissed his temple softly.
"Thank you," she whispered.
Then she slipped out the door.
The hallway outside felt colder. Sharper. The buzz of her phone resumed. She glanced at the screen:
Five missed calls. One name.
Emilia drew in a breath, squared her shoulders, and walked toward the elevator.
She had work to do. A company to steady. A storm to face.
But something had shifted inside her. Something that couldn't be undone by boardrooms or bloodlines.
Last night, she had been touched not just in body—but in truth.
And no amount of morning light could erase that.
.....
The sun had climbed higher by the time Sebastian stirred.
He reached for her instinctively, eyes still heavy with sleep, but his hand met only cool linen and an emptiness that made his chest sink.
His eyes opened slowly.
The other side of the bed was rumpled but empty. Her scent still lingered in the sheets—faint, floral, and heartbreaking.
He sat up, running a hand through his hair. The quietness of the apartment felt different now.
She was gone.
No note. No sound. No trace but the memory of her warmth
He exhaled slowly, anchoring himself to the truth of what happened last night.
It hadn't just been sex.
It was something unspoken, something he'd seen in the way she trembled and didn't pull away. In the way she kissed him with her eyes closed—not from fear, but from trust.
And now she'd left.
Maybe she had obligations. Maybe she didn't want to explain. Maybe she was afraid.
But a quiet voice in his chest whispered something else:
Maybe she regrets it.
He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, rubbing the back of his neck. The distant hum of traffic outside did little to drown out the ache rising in him.
Part of him wanted to call her. Ask where she was. Ask if she was okay.
But he didn't.
Sebastian Lores had grown up knowing when people needed space. And he wasn't about to chase someone still trying to make sense of her own heart.
Still, as he moved through the apartment, making coffee with muscle memory and silence, her presence echoed in every corner.
The glass she'd used. The soft indent on the pillow. The memory of her laugh—low and unexpected in the middle of the night.
He took his mug to the window, staring out at the city below.
Somewhere out there, Emilia Stone was already back in her world of sleek buildings and sharp expectations. Putting on her armor. Fixing her hair. Fighting battles behind polished smiles.
And he...
He would wait.
Not because he was weak, but because she was worth it.
Even if this flame—however forbidden—had already begun to burn too deep.