Chapter 65

The mug was warm between my hands, but the air in the room felt different now it became thicker somehow.

Drew hadn’t looked away from me once since taking that first sip of coffee. His gaze was steady, unblinking, and yet there was something new in it tonight. Something that wasn’t sharp or calculating like in the office, but softer, heavier… almost as if he was trying to read every inch of me without a word.

It was unnerving.

And the worst part? My body wasn’t reacting with the caution my mind was screaming for.

The faint glow from the lamp on my side table brushed his face in gold, catching on the sharp cut of his jaw, the faint crease between his brows. His hand was still wrapped around the coffee mug, but he wasn’t drinking anymore. His attention was on me entirely.

My fingers tightened around my own mug, and I suddenly became aware of how quiet the apartment was. Too quiet. The kind where you can hear the faint hum of the refrigerator and the soft tick of the wall clock.

The silence stretched until I couldn’t take it anymore. “What?” I asked, my voice quieter than I intended.

His mouth didn’t move at first. Then, slowly, one corner of it lifted, not a full smile, but something close enough to make my chest tighten.

He took a step toward me.

I didn’t move.

Another step.

The space between us began to shrink in slow, deliberate increments. Each shift of his body seemed calculated, like he knew exactly what he was doing to me, and that made it all the more dangerous.

When he was close enough that I could smell his cologne, a mix of something clean and dark. I realized my breathing had changed. It had become shallow and uneven.

He set his mug down on the edge of the counter, his fingers brushing the surface lightly. “You always do that,” he said quietly.

“Do what?”

“Look like you’re about to run,” he murmured, his eyes flicking briefly to my mouth before coming back to my eyes. “Even when you don’t move an inch.”

I swallowed hard, heat crawling up my neck. “I’m not”

He leaned just slightly closer, close enough that his voice dipped into something lower, the kind of tone that pulled you toward it whether you wanted to go or not. “Aren’t you?”

My pulse was loud in my ears now. The coffee in my hands felt forgotten, my palms starting to sweat against the ceramic. I could see the tiny flecks of darker brown in his eyes, the way they didn’t waver even once.

His hand twitched slightly, almost like he was debating reaching for me. My pulse spiked so hard I was sure he could hear it.

He was close enough now that all it would take was the smallest movement, a tilt of my head, a lean forward and we would be kissing.

The realization made my chest feel tight.

Because I remembered.

I remembered the way his mouth had felt on mine that night. The way his hands had gripped my waist. The heat, the electricity, the dizzying way the world had tilted until there was nothing but him.

And I remembered the morning after.

The way he had looked at me, not with the warmth from the night before, but with cold distance. The way his words had cut through me like glass when he’d made it clear that it was a mistake. That we were a mistake.

The sting of that rejection still sat somewhere deep in me, sharp and unhealed.

He had made sure I knew it meant nothing to him. That I meant nothing to him.

So what was this? What was he doing now?

I swallowed hard, my throat tight, my mind a jumble of want and warning.

My heart was hammering so hard it felt like it might shake me apart. I wanted to close the distance. God help me, I wanted it so badly my hands trembled where they held the mug.

And I wasn’t about to let rejection happen again.

So I stepped back.

It was small, barely a shift, but it was enough to put air between us again. Enough to break whatever had been building up between us.

He stopped immediately, his gaze flicking over my face like he was trying to read why.

I forced my eyes away, pretending to busy myself with setting my coffee down on the counter. “I… I should probably let you go. It’s late.”

I didn’t look at him right away, but I could feel the pause that settled over him. It was quiet, but not empty. There was a kind of awareness in it, like he was collecting himself, reining something back in.

For a moment, Drew didn’t move. Then he straightened slowly, pulling back into himself with a quiet, practiced control. Whatever had been there in his eyes before smoothed out into something unreadable again.

He reached for his mug, taking a calm sip before setting it back down. “Yeah It’s late,” he said finally, his tone back to the one I knew from the office. “I should be going now.”

There was no edge in his voice, no sign of frustration, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted, even if neither of us was going to acknowledge it.

The words were simple, but something about the way he delivered them made me feel like I had just stepped away from the edge of a cliff.

He took a step toward the door, then paused and looked at me. “Lock up after I leave. Don’t open the door for anyone tonight.”

I nodded. “Okay.”

His eyes stayed on mine for another second, that unspoken something still flickering there before he added, “If anything happens, if you see or hear anything call me immediately.”

My chest gave a strange, tight squeeze at the weight in his voice. “Alright.”

And then, just like that, he was moving toward the door. No glance back, no lingering pause. The door opened, and the cool night air slipped inside for a moment before he stepped out and it shut behind him with a soft click.

I stood there for a long moment, staring at the closed door like it might open again.

It didn’t.

Slowly, I moved to the window beside it, pulling the curtain back just enough to watch as he crossed the small lot to his car. His stride was unhurried, his shoulders squared like always. He didn’t look back once, just slid into the BMW, started the engine, and drove off into the quiet street.

The sound of the car faded quickly, leaving me in the stillness of my apartment.

That was when it hit me, how fast my heart was still beating. How warm my skin felt even though the air in here was cool.

I sank onto the couch, my hands still wrapped loosely around the coffee mug even though the drink was barely touched.

What the hell had just happened?

Drew had looked at me like… like he wanted me. Like that night wasn’t a mistake after all. But that couldn’t be right.

He was Drew Sinclair. He didn’t do anything messy. He didn’t mix business with anything personal unless it benefited him. So what was that tonight?

A game? A slip? Or something else entirely?

I rubbed my temples, but it didn’t quiet the whirl of thoughts.

Because if there was one thing I knew, it was that Drew didn’t do things without a reason. And that meant his showing up here tonight, driving me home, walking into my apartment, looking at me like that, it all had a purpose.

Drew wanted me. I could see it in his eyes and the way the space between us had felt like it was about to collapse entirely scared me

I'm glad I pulled back, even though some part of me hadn’t wanted to.

And worst of all…I couldn’t stop wondering what would have happened if I hadn’t