Lines We Shouldn’t Cross

Elias’s POV

Sleep didn’t come.

I lay there, staring at the ceiling of the hotel suite, the dim city lights slipping through the curtains. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her—Clara—standing in the middle of that room, her lips parted, her breath shaky, her eyes wide after I kissed her.

That kiss.

God, that kiss.

It hadn’t been planned. It wasn’t supposed to happen. But the moment she looked up at me, so real, so breakable yet so damn strong, something inside me snapped.

I told myself it was part of the act, that I was protecting the illusion we’d built for my parents, but that was a lie even I couldn’t believe.

The taste of her still lingered on my lips—sweet, nervous, real.

I turned over, dragging a hand across my face. This wasn’t supposed to get complicated. I had rules. I lived by them. Emotions were messy; attachments were dangerous. And yet… when she smiled at dinner, when she defended me in front of my mother, when she looked terrified but still held my hand—she made it impossible to stay detached.

I sat up, the sheets rustling. The city glowed below us, cold and endless. Somewhere across the suite, in the guest room, she was probably asleep—or pretending to be.

I thought about going to her.

Then I thought about what would happen if I did.

No. I couldn’t.

But I wanted to.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand. A message from my mother:

“Dinner went well. She’s interesting. Don’t mess this up.”

A humorless laugh escaped me. Too late for that.

I threw the phone aside and leaned back, exhaling hard. This was supposed to be a business arrangement. A temporary fix to a family problem. But somewhere between the lies and the late-night rehearsals, between her shy glances and her quiet courage, I’d lost control.

The truth burned in my chest:

I didn’t just want her to pretend to be mine.

I wanted her to be mine.

I stood up and walked to the window. The reflection staring back at me looked like a stranger—a man who’d crossed his own line and couldn’t turn back.

She was dangerous to me. Not because she was powerful, but because she made me feel.

And feelings… were my greatest weakness.

I closed my eyes, resting my hand against the cold glass. “What the hell are you doing, Elias?” I muttered under my breath.

No answer came.

But I knew one thing for sure—after tonight, nothing between us would ever be the same.

Morning

When I finally opened my eyes, sunlight was cutting through the blinds. My head ached from too much thinking and not enough rest.

The faint sound of footsteps made me look up. She was there — Clara — wearing one of my shirts that hung just past her thighs. Her hair was messy, her lips still slightly swollen from last night.

For a second, I forgot how to breathe.

She looked… soft. Real. Too real for the mess I’d dragged her into.

“Morning,” she said, her voice small but careful.

I nodded, my throat dry. “Morning.”

She moved to the kitchen counter, her back to me, pouring coffee into two mugs. The air felt heavy — full of unspoken things neither of us wanted to face.

“About last night…” she started.

My chest tightened instantly.

“Forget it,” I cut in, too fast. Too harsh.

She turned to face me slowly, confusion and hurt flickering in her eyes. “Forget it? Elias, you kissed me.”

“It was a mistake,” I said flatly, standing up. “You shouldn’t read meaning into things that aren’t real.”

Her lips parted in disbelief. “A mistake?”

“Yes.” I walked closer, forcing my tone to stay cold. “You know what this is, Clara. It’s a contract. You’re being paid to play a part — that’s all.”

She flinched like I’d slapped her. “I know what this is, Elias. But that doesn’t mean you get to treat me like I’m—”

“Like you’re what?” I snapped. “Someone I actually love?”

The words came out sharper than I meant. They hung in the air between us, burning.

Her eyes glossed with tears she refused to let fall. “You didn’t have to say it like that.”

I looked away, jaw tight. “You shouldn’t have let it happen if you didn’t mean it either. You froze, Clara. You didn’t stop me.”

She blinked at me, stunned. “So it’s my fault you kissed me?”

My silence said everything.

She laughed bitterly, shaking her head. “You’re unbelievable. You think money lets you say and do anything, right? You bought my signature, Elias — not my feelings.”

“Good,” I bit out. “Because I don’t need your feelings. I just need you to do your job.”

That did it.

Her eyes turned cold, her voice steady but trembling at the edges.

“You’re right,” she said quietly. “It’s just a job. I’ll play my part perfectly — for six months, like you paid for. But after that, I don’t ever want to see you again.”

She grabbed her purse and stormed toward the door.

“Clara,” I said, softer this time.

She stopped — just for a second — but didn’t turn back.

“Next time,” she whispered, “don’t kiss someone if you’re planning to make them feel cheap for it.”

The door slammed behind her.

And just like that, the silence returned — heavier, colder.

I sat back down, hands clenched into fists, hating myself for every word that had left my mouth.

Because the truth I didn’t want to admit was simple —

I kissed her because I meant it.

And I pushed her away because I was terrified that I still did.

Clara’s POV

By the time I reached home, my chest felt hollow. Zara was in the living room, sipping coffee with her messy bun and lazy grin.

“Babe, you’re back early—” she began, but one look at my face made her stop.

“Clara? What happened? Don’t tell me that fine billionaire annoyed you again.”

I dropped my bag on the chair, fighting the tears stinging my eyes. “Zara, my eyes have seen things today.”

“Ehn?” she said, sitting up. “Talk to me, what did that man do?”

I sank into the couch, exhaling shakily. “He kissed me last night.”

Zara’s jaw dropped. “As in, real kiss or movie kiss?”

“Real,” I whispered. “And this morning he called it a mistake. Said it meant nothing. He blamed me for not stopping him.”

Zara’s eyes widened. “Wait… he said what?”

“He said it’s all fake. That he paid me, and he’s going to keep paying me, so I should remember my place.”

Zara jumped to her feet. “Jesus! Billionaire madness!”

I laughed weakly, but it came out more like a sob. “I should’ve known better, Zara. I let myself believe he cared, even for a second.”

She sat beside me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. “No, babe. You didn’t do anything wrong. That man is confused. But one day, he’ll regret every word he said. Mark my words.”

I rested my head against her shoulder, silent.

Because deep down, I already

knew she was right —

And I hated that part of me still wanted him to regret it.