Nina's POV

★NINA★

The moonlight streamed through the sheer curtains in my bedroom, casting pale rectangles on the floor. I glanced at the digital clock on the bedside table.

5:02 a.m.

I groaned softly and buried my face in the pillow, but it was pointless. Sleep had become elusive. Every time I closed my eyes, I felt the warmth of Malachi’s breath against my skin in that dark guest room. I could remember how his eyes had darkened, how the playful atmosphere shifted into something heavy and intimate.

My throat felt dry. I needed water.

I got out of bed without putting on a robe. I wore a simple silk camisole and matching shorts—one of the sets I'd found in the wardrobe. As I tiptoed down the hallway, the cold floorboards chilled my feet. The house seemed completely silent until I reached the ground floor.

A dull, rhythmic sound echoed from the far end of the hallway, near the glass doors leading to the west wing.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

It was heavy and steady, like a heartbeat of stone. My curiosity, a trait that often led me into trouble, compelled me toward the sound. I followed it to the home gym, a room I hadn’t entered during my tour.

The door was slightly open, a sliver of bright light spilling onto the polished hallway floor. I stepped closer, my heart beginning to race. I reached to peek inside, but the door swung open with the light pressure of my hand.

The air inside the gym felt different. It was hot, thick with the smell of ozone, expensive rubber, and the raw, salty scent of a man pushing himself to the limit.

In the center of the room, Malachi moved like a blur of aggressive grace.

★MALACHI★

My knuckles throbbed under the hand wraps, but I couldn't stop.

Thud. Thud.

Each strike against the heavy bag was a desperate attempt to push her out of my mind. I had spent half the night lying awake, the image of Nina by the window—her wide eyes and parted lips—burned in my memory. I could still feel the phantom touch of her fingers on my hand from earlier that evening.

I was losing control. I prided myself on logic, on the cold walls I built around my heart and home. Nina Manalo had made a crack in those walls, and it was widening.

I threw a hard right hook, the bag groaning under the force. Sweat coated my skin, and my lungs burned, but my thoughts remained on her. I could remember her vanilla scent, her softness, and the way she interacted with Lila. The way she looked at me when she thought I wasn't watching.

I let out a low growl and unleashed a flurry of punches, my adrenaline spiking until my vision blurred. I needed to forget she was in the next room. I needed to forget the sound of her laughter.

The door creaked.

I spun around, my chest heaving, my hands still poised defensively.

Nina stood there.

She looked like a vision I shouldn’t be having. Her hair was messy from sleep, falling over her shoulders in dark waves. The silk of her sleepwear clung to her curves, the pale purple fabric nearly translucent under the bright lights. She seemed small, delicate, and utterly breathtaking.

"Nina," I rasped, my voice heavy.

She gasped, her eyes widening as they traveled over me. I knew what she saw. I was shirtless, my muscles glistening with sweat, my veins prominent in my forearms. I was a man in the midst of an inner battle, and she had just walked into the middle of it.

"I... I’m sorry," she stammered, her voice shaking. "I was just getting water. I heard a noise..."

She began to turn away, retreating into the shadows, but the adrenaline coursing through me wouldn’t let her go. I acted on instinct.

★NINA★

I barely saw him move. One moment he was ten feet away, and the next, he was a wall of heat and muscle in front of me.

I stumbled back, my heart racing, until the cold metal of the weight rack pressed into my spine. Malachi didn't stop. He stepped into my space, his heavy, ragged breathing the only sound in the room. He slammed his hands on the rack beside my head, pinning me between his body and the cold iron.

The heat radiating from him was overwhelming. I could feel the dampness of his skin through my thin silk top. My gaze was locked on his chest, rising and falling with each frantic breath, the dark hair matted with sweat.

"Mr. Malachi," I breathed, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Do you have any idea," he began, his voice low and dangerous, "how hard I am trying to be the man you think I am?"

I looked up into his jade-green eyes. They were wild, filled with exhaustion and an intense, raw desire that made my knees weak. He looked like a predator who had finally cornered its prey, but there was a flicker of something else—a desperate, silent plea.

He leaned in closer, and I couldn't help tilting my head back, my heart racing. He was so close I could feel his heat against my nose. His gaze dropped to my lips, and for a moment, the world stopped spinning. I wanted it. I wanted him to close that final inch. I wanted to know if his lips were just as demanding as the rest of him.

My hands instinctively rose, resting against his damp chest. His heart pounded just as fast as mine, a frantic thudding beneath his skin. He groaned, a low, tortured sound, and his head dipped lower, his nose grazing mine.

I closed my eyes, waiting for the kiss, my breath hitching in expectation.

But it never came.

Instead, I felt his grip tighten on the metal rack until his knuckles turned white. He stayed there for a long moment, his forehead resting against mine, his scent—raw, masculine, and intoxicating—filling my lungs.

When he finally spoke, his voice was a soft whisper, cold enough to cut through the moment's haze.

"Go back to bed, Nina."

I opened my eyes, blinking back tears. He didn't move, but the intensity in his gaze had shifted from heat to a cold, hard resolve. He looked like he was battling the urge to shake me or pull me closer, and the tension was clear on his face.

He leaned in one last time, his lips brushing my ear, his breath warm and ragged against my skin.

"Go," he repeated, his voice dropping to a dark warning. "Before I forget you're an employee."

The word employee hit me like a bucket of ice water.

He pulled back just enough to let me go, his expression returning to that unreadable billionaire mask. He didn’t look at me as I scrambled away, my legs shaking so much that I nearly tripped over my own feet.