The villa was quiet. Too quiet.
Amelia kicked off her heels at the entrance, the soft thud echoing through the grand hallway. Ryuko Villa was nothing short of stunning, with its open layout, high ceilings, and floor-to-ceiling windows that let moonlight spill across the marble floors. But it didn't feel like home. Not really. Not yet.
She headed straight to her bedroom, too tired to think, too drained to even unpack. The events of the last two days still lingered like a shadow over her — especially him. That man. That smug, sharp-jawed man who had the audacity to act like she was the one interrupting his day when she caught him in her wardrobe.
It was insane. It still is insane.
Amelia sank into the bed, her body immediately sinking into the soft mattress and silk sheets. Her head hit the pillow, and within seconds, the weight of exhaustion pulled her under. Her lashes fluttered, breath slowing. For the first time in days, she felt safe enough to fall asleep.
She had no idea someone was already inside.
He stood in the shadows, silent as a ghost.
She hadn't noticed. Of course she hadn't. He'd made sure of it. Christian Harper moved like a whisper, slipping through the unlocked balcony door as easily as he stepped into boardrooms and hostile takeovers. But this — this wasn't business.
This was personal.
His eyes locked onto her sleeping form. The soft rise and fall of her chest, the way the moonlight highlighted the slope of her shoulder, the delicate strands of hair that had fallen across her cheek.
Amelia Lyrax.
She looked… peaceful. Innocent, even. It was a stark contrast from the fire in her eyes the night she swung a frying pan at him. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips at the memory — her defiance had been unexpected. And exhilarating.
But now, watching her like this… it did something else.
Christian stepped closer, stopping beside the edge of her bed. For a long moment, he simply stared, unreadable. Then, without meaning to — or maybe he did — he reached out. His fingertips brushed lightly along her cheek, tracing the curve of her face.
Warm.
Soft.
Real.
His hand froze halfway, and something inside him flickered.
This wasn't part of the plan.
She stirred, shifting slightly in her sleep, and he instinctively stepped back. One more second and she might've opened her eyes. And if she saw him now — standing in her bedroom in the dead of night — she'd scream. Or fight. Maybe both.
And yet… he couldn't tear his gaze away.
Maybe he could stay a little longer.
But then she shifted again, murmuring something under her breath, her brows drawing together.
Enough.
He turned and slipped out the same way he came, vanishing into the night like smoke.