Chapter Five: One Night, No Names

"Wait." I caught his arm as he moved toward the door, reality crashing through the haze of desire and impulse. "We need ground rules."

He turned back, surprise flickering across his features. In the ambient light from the city below, he looked almost otherworldly—too beautiful, too intense, too dangerous for someone like me to be tangling with.

"Ground rules," he repeated, something like amusement warming his voice despite the tension still thrumming through his body from whatever that phone call had been about.

"Yes." I straightened my spine, trying to channel some of the composure my mother had drilled into me, even though my shirt was still disheveled and my lips swollen from his kisses. "If I'm going with you—wherever you're going—we need to establish boundaries."

The emergency could wait another sixty seconds. Because standing in his penthouse, about to step deeper into this dangerous fantasy, I suddenly realized how quickly I could lose myself completely. How easy it would be to fall for this stranger and his storm-gray eyes and his understanding of gilded cages.

And that terrified me more than anything.

"Alright." He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, giving me his full attention despite the urgency that had him keyed tight as a wire. "What rules does E need?"

"First—" I held up one finger, "—no real names. You're L, I'm E, and that's all we get. No last names, no family details, nothing that could trace back to our real lives."

"Agreed." His eyes darkened. "Though I already know your parents are drowning in debt and selling you off to Richard Pemberton III."

"That's not my name or identity—that's context for why I'm here." I held his gaze. "There's a difference."

"Fair enough." He pushed off the doorframe, moving closer. "What else?"

"Second—no promises about tomorrow. No exchange of phone numbers, no plans to meet again, no pretending this is anything other than what it is." My voice wavered slightly on the last part because even saying the words hurt. "When tonight ends, we go back to being strangers."

Something flashed across his face—pain, maybe, or regret—but he nodded. "No tomorrow. Just tonight."

"And third—" I took a breath, steeling myself for the hardest rule, "—no falling. This is physical, it's escape, it's freedom for one night. But it's not real. We don't get to keep each other."

The silence that followed was suffocating. He stared at me for a long moment, his expression unreadable, and I wondered if I'd just ruined everything. If he'd decide I was too complicated, too damaged, not worth the trouble.

Then he moved, closing the distance between us in two strides, his hands coming up to frame my face with a gentleness that made my chest ache.

"You're asking me not to fall for you," he said softly, his thumb tracing my cheekbone, "while you stand here looking at me like I'm your salvation. Do you have any idea how impossible that is?"

"It has to be impossible," I whispered. "Because tomorrow I have to go back to my life, and you have to go back to yours, and if we let this be anything more than right now, it will destroy us both."

"Maybe I want to be destroyed." His forehead pressed against mine, his breath mingling with my own. "Maybe I'm tired of staying intact."

"L—"

"But you're right." He pulled back, though his hands remained on my face, anchoring me. "You're absolutely right. We get tonight. Just tonight. No names, no promises, no falling." His smile was sad, resigned. "Even though I suspect it's already too late for that last rule."

My heart clenched. "It has to be."

"Then let me propose a counter-rule," he said, his voice dropping to that dangerous register that made my knees weak. "If we only get tonight, then we make it count. No holding back, no playing it safe. We give each other complete honesty within our boundaries. Deal?"

I should have said no. Should have recognized that complete honesty was just another word for emotional intimacy, which was exactly what I was trying to avoid.

But looking into his eyes, seeing my own desperate need for connection reflected back at me, I nodded.

"Deal."

"Good." He released me, stepping back, and immediately I felt the loss of his warmth. "Then let's go. My driver's waiting, and this can't wait much longer."

The car ride was different this time—less charged with sexual tension, more weighted with the understanding of what we'd just agreed to. One night. No falling. No future.

It should have felt freeing, having clear boundaries. Instead, it felt like I'd just signed away something precious before I'd even gotten to fully hold it.

"Can you at least tell me where we're going?" I asked as the city blurred past the windows.

"My office." He was scrolling through his phone, tension evident in the set of his shoulders. "There's a situation that needs my immediate attention. It shouldn't take more than an hour, and then we'll go back to the penthouse."

"You work at night?"

"I work all the time." He glanced up, his expression wry. "Hazard of the position. Some problems don't wait for business hours."

I wanted to ask what position, what kind of work required a penthouse and a driver and emergency late-night office visits. But that would violate our rules, wouldn't it? No details about real life. No information that could identify us.

"Must be important," I said instead.

"It is." He set his phone down, turning to face me fully. "But not as important as this—as you. I wouldn't have agreed to bring you if I thought it would take long."

"You could have just told me to wait at your place."

"I could have." His hand found mine in the darkness, fingers interlacing. "But the thought of you leaving while I was gone, of coming back to an empty penthouse and never seeing you again—" He broke off, shaking his head. "Selfish of me, I know. Keeping you close."

"I wouldn't have left," I admitted quietly. "Not without saying goodbye."

"Wouldn't you?" His thumb traced circles on my palm. "Isn't that exactly what we're supposed to do? Disappear into the night like we never existed?"

He wasn't wrong. That had been my plan—one night of passion and then vanish back into my controlled life, carrying the memory like a secret rebellion. But now, sitting beside him, his hand warm in mine, the thought of never seeing him again felt like losing something vital.

"The rules are there for a reason," I said, as much to remind myself as him.

"I know." He lifted my hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to my knuckles that sent shivers through me. "Doesn't mean I have to like them."

The car slowed, and I looked out to see another towering building, this one all glass and steel with a modern design that screamed wealth and power. The lobby was lit but empty—it had to be past eleven by now.

"Stay close to me," he said as we exited the car. "Security will question anyone they don't recognize, and I don't want you uncomfortable."

I wanted to ask why security would recognize him, what kind of position he held that gave him this kind of access and authority. But again—rules. No details. No real life.

He kept my hand in his as we entered the building, and true to his word, the security guard straightened immediately upon seeing him.

"Mr.—" the guard began, then seemed to catch himself, his eyes darting to me and then away. "Sir. We weren't expecting you tonight."

"Emergency meeting," L said smoothly. "We'll be in my office. Hold all calls unless it's Peterson."

"Yes, sir."

We crossed to the elevators, and I felt the weight of the security guard's curious stare on my back. Mr. What? What had he been about to call him?

The elevator ride was silent, tension building with each floor we climbed. Whatever we were heading toward, it was serious enough to pull him away from our night together. Serious enough to make his jaw clench and his hand tighten around mine.

"You okay?" I asked softly.

"No." He looked at me then, and the raw honesty in his eyes stole my breath. "But having you here helps. Does that make me weak?"

"It makes you human."

The elevator stopped—not at a regular floor, but at what appeared to be a private level. The doors opened directly into a reception area with modern furniture and artwork that probably cost more than my parents' house.

But it was the wall behind the reception desk that made my blood run cold.

A company logo, sleek and modern, with a name I recognized immediately because my father had mentioned it just this morning over breakfast. One of the biggest corporations in the city, known for its ruthless CEO and aggressive business tactics.

Hawthorne Industries.

"L?" My voice came out strangled. "What exactly do you do?"

He followed my gaze to the logo, and I saw the moment he realized what I'd just figured out. His hand tightened around mine, not letting me pull away.

"E—"

"You work for Hawthorne Industries." It wasn't a question.

"In a manner of speaking."

"What manner of speaking?" But I already knew. The private elevator, the security guard's deference, the "emergency meeting" that couldn't wait. "Oh God. You're not just an employee, are you?"

He was silent, and that silence was confirmation enough.

"The rules—" I tried to pull away, panic rising in my chest. "We said no identifying information."

"We said no names," he corrected, holding firm. "And I haven't told you mine."

"You didn't have to!" I gestured at the logo. "Hawthorne Industries. How many people have private elevator access and emergency meetings in the middle of the night?"

"E, listen to me—"

"Are you him?" The question burst out before I could stop it. "Are you Liam Hawthorne?"

The CEO every business magazine wrote about. The ruthless billionaire who'd taken over his father's company and tripled its value in five years. The man known for his brutal negotiation tactics and his absolute control over every aspect of his empire.

The man my father had been trying to schedule a meeting with for months.

His silence was answer enough.

"Oh God." I pressed my free hand to my stomach, feeling sick. "Oh God, this is— I can't— We have to—"

"Hey." He pulled me against him, his arms coming around me despite my attempt to retreat. "Breathe. Just breathe."

"You're Liam Hawthorne," I said against his chest, my voice muffled. "You're the Liam Hawthorne, and I'm— and we—"

"We didn't exchange names," he said firmly. "You're still E. I'm still L. That was the rule, remember? Nothing changes."

But everything had changed. Because now I knew who he was, knew the weight of the name he carried, the empire he controlled. He wasn't just a beautiful stranger anymore—he was real, identifiable, dangerous in ways I hadn't imagined.

And somewhere in the back of my mind, a horrible thought was forming. My father wanted a meeting with Hawthorne Industries. My family needed money. And here I was, in Liam Hawthorne's arms, having just agreed to spend the night with him.

If anyone found out, they'd think—God, they'd think I'd done this deliberately. That I'd seduced him for business purposes, like some kind of corporate spy or social climber.

"I need to leave," I said, trying to push away. "This was a mistake. I should never have—"

"E." His voice was sharp enough to cut through my panic. "Look at me."

Reluctantly, I lifted my head, meeting those storm-gray eyes that had seemed so mysterious in the bar and now felt terrifyingly familiar. How had I not recognized him? His face had been on the cover of Forbes three months ago.

"We agreed to one night," he said, his hands firm on my shoulders. "No names, no falling, no tomorrow. That agreement stands. I don't care who you are in real life, and you don't care who I am. Tonight, we're just L and E. That's all."

"But—"

"Unless you want to walk away right now." His expression was carefully neutral, giving me the choice. "I'll have my driver take you anywhere you want to go. No questions, no judgment. But if you stay—if you choose to stay—then we honor our agreement. One night. Just us."

I should walk away. Should run from this before it got more complicated, before I fell any deeper into whatever this was between us.

But as I stood there in his arms, feeling his heartbeat against my palm, I realized I'd already broken the third rule.

I was already falling.

And I didn't want to stop.

"One night," I whispered, making my choice. "No names. No tomorrow."

His answering smile was equal parts relief and regret. "One night."

He kissed me then, deep and claiming, and I let myself sink into it, into him, into this beautiful lie we were telling ourselves.

That one night would be enough.

That we could walk away unscathed.

That knowing his identity didn't change everything.

But as we broke apart and he led me toward his office to handle whatever emergency had called him here, I couldn't shake the feeling that I'd just sealed both our fates.

Because tomorrow, I had to meet Richard Pemberton III.

And now I knew that tomorrow, Liam Hawthorne would go back to being the unreachable billionaire my father was desperately trying to impress.

The same man who'd just promised to make me forget my own name.

The same man I was absolutely, terrifyingly falling for, despite every rule we'd set.

One night, we'd said.

But some nights change everything.

And neither of us had any idea just how true that was about to become.