Kristina didn't know what time it was when she stepped out of The Velvet Room, but the world outside felt slower, heavier. The air clung to her like a second skin, humid from the rain that had fallen while they were inside. The street glistened in fractured reflections, each streetlamp casting pale ribbons across the slick asphalt. Somewhere down the block, a car idled with its headlights dimmed, its low rumble threading through the thick quiet.
This wasn't city-quiet. It was the kind of silence that pressed against her ears until it felt physical, like a layer of cotton muffling everything. Even her own heels clicking on the wet sidewalk sounded distant, softened. James's hand was firm at the small of her back, steadying her as though he knew she could drift if he let go. His warmth cut through the chill seeping from the pavement, the contrast making her hyperaware of every inch where his body touched hers.
Neither of them spoke. They didn't need to. The silence between them wasn't empty, it was taut, stretched with the residue of everything that had happened inside. It carried the lingering scent of expensive perfume and the faint taste of champagne on her tongue. Her chest felt too small for her breath, as if she were still holding it from something that had already passed.
When they reached his car, James didn't immediately unlock it. He stood for a moment with his gaze sweeping the street, the subtle flick of his eyes too deliberate to be casual. His hand guided her inside without a word, the low thud of the door closing around her creating a small, insulated world. The interior smelled faintly of leather and whatever cologne he wore, something deep, clean, and quietly expensive.
The drive was brief, but the silence inside the car wasn't the same as the walk. Here, the space felt more personal, more contained. She could feel the heat from his arm when he shifted gears, could see the reflection of streetlights sliding across his face, cutting sharp lines across his cheekbones. She thought about asking what he was thinking, but there was a weight in the air that told her not to.
Back at his place, the apartment greeted them in low shadows. James flicked on a lamp in the corner, the warm light spilling over dark wood and steel. He didn't say anything before disappearing into the bathroom, the faint click of the door closing leaving her alone with the muted hum of the city beyond the windows.
She sat on the edge of the bed, feeling the way her dress clung to her thighs, damp at the hem from the rain. Her hands rested loosely in her lap, though every so often her fingers curled against her skin, as if to test whether she was still present. Her body felt strange, neither light nor heavy, just… shifted. The events of the evening pressed against her mind, forming shapes she didn't quite want to define yet.
A dull pulse throbbed behind her ribs. Each beat reminded her she'd crossed a threshold tonight. Not with her body, though her body was still charged with the memory of certain looks, certain touches, but with something deeper. Understanding. And she didn't know if she wanted to go back to the ignorance she'd had before.
The bathroom door opened softly. James emerged without hurry, dressed down to a simple T-shirt and dark pants, his hair slightly damp. He crossed the room and lowered himself to one knee in front of her. Without a word, he slid her heels off one at a time, his hands slow, deliberate. He placed them neatly to the side, as if they were fragile or irreplaceable.
His hands hovered briefly at her knees before settling around her calves, his touch warm and grounding. His eyes met hers, and his voice was steady when he said, "You did well."
The praise lodged somewhere deep inside her. It shouldn't have mattered. But it did.
James didn't push her further that night. No commands, no deliberate testing of limits. Just the steady, quiet presence of a man who was both in control and choosing not to wield it. She lay down eventually, and when he joined her, his breath brushed the back of her neck, carrying with it the faint scent of rain still clinging to his clothes.
Sleep didn't come quickly.
But when it did, it came with the echo of his voice in her head, and the knowledge that something between them had shifted in ways she couldn't yet name.
Morning light was thin and cold when Kristina finally stirred, filtering in through the slats of the blinds in pale, reluctant stripes. She didn't reach for her phone. She didn't even check the time. Instead, she lay still, watching the soft rise and fall of James's breathing beside her. His face in sleep was unreadable, less guarded, but not truly open. Like even in dreams he kept his walls up.
She wanted to reach out, to trace her fingers along the edge of his jaw, to see if that would change anything. But before she could, his eyes opened. Sharp. Aware. He was awake instantly, as though he'd only been resting because he'd allowed himself to.
"You're thinking too loudly," he said, his voice rough with the remnants of sleep.
She managed a small smile. "Maybe."
He rolled onto his back, stretching one arm behind his head. "You're safe here. You know that, right?"
Kristina nodded, but the truth was complicated. Safe was a strange word in James's world. It didn't mean untouched, or untested. It meant that whatever danger came, it would have to get through him first.
She sat up slowly, brushing her hair back from her face. "You didn't sleep much."
"I never do." He said it without weight, like it wasn't worth explaining. Then he pushed himself up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. "We've got somewhere to be today."
"Where?"
His mouth curved faintly, not quite a smile. "You'll see."
He didn't offer more, and she didn't press. But something in the way he moved told her this wasn't just an errand. There was purpose in the set of his shoulders, in the quiet precision of his gestures as he dressed. Watching him was like watching someone assemble armor piece by piece.
She dressed quickly, still unsure whether to be curious or wary. By the time they stepped outside, the rain had stopped, but the air still smelled of wet concrete and asphalt. James's car was waiting, dark and sleek against the curb.
He drove without speaking for the first ten minutes, the city sliding past in a blur of glass and steel. Kristina watched him more than the streets, trying to read his expression, but his profile was as impassive as the night they'd met.
Finally, he glanced at her. "What happens today might not make sense at first. Don't react until I tell you to."
Her pulse quickened, but she nodded. "Alright."
His hand brushed briefly against hers where they rested on the console, a fleeting touch, gone before she could decide if it was meant as reassurance or warning.
They pulled into a part of the city Kristina didn't recognize. The buildings here were older, their brick facades darkened by decades of weather and neglect. Narrow streets wound between them, littered with puddles that reflected the sky in broken shards. James parked in front of an unmarked door set into the side of a long, low building.
A man was waiting there, leaning casually against the wall, but his eyes were anything but casual. They tracked every movement James made, then slid briefly over Kristina before returning to him. There was recognition in the man's gaze, respect, but also the faint edge of calculation.
"Richard," James said in greeting as he stepped out. His tone was even, but there was a current beneath it.
"James." The man's voice was deep, deliberate. He straightened, giving Kristina another assessing look before nodding toward the door. "They're expecting you."
Inside, the air was warmer but carried the heavy scent of cigars and aged whiskey. The lighting was low, pools of golden glow cast from shaded fixtures. Kristina followed close behind James, her heels soundless on the carpet. The murmur of voices drifted from somewhere deeper in the building.
They entered a large room furnished with deep leather chairs and polished tables. At its center sat a woman with striking auburn hair, a glass of red wine poised delicately between her fingers. Her gaze flicked to Kristina, then settled on James.
"You brought company," she said, her voice smooth but edged with curiosity.
"She's with me," James replied, his tone leaving no room for discussion.
The woman's mouth curved slightly. "I see." She set the wine down and gestured for them to sit. "We have business to discuss."
Kristina sat beside James, her pulse loud in her ears. She didn't know what kind of business this was, but every instinct told her to stay quiet, to listen.
The conversation that followed was layered, the kind of dialogue meant to conceal as much as it revealed. Names were mentioned, some Kristina recognized from whispered news stories, others she had never heard before. James's tone never shifted, his voice calm even when the woman's questions turned sharp. She could sense undercurrents, power moving between the words like an invisible tide.
At one point, Richard reappeared with a folder and set it on the table. James flipped it open, scanning its contents without letting any reaction show on his face. He closed it with the same measured ease and slid it back. "I'll handle it," was all he said.
The auburn-haired woman studied him for a long moment, then nodded. "See that you do. And keep her close." Her gaze flicked to Kristina, holding just long enough to make her skin prickle.
When they finally left, the cool air outside felt like a release. Kristina stayed silent until they were back in the car. "What was that?" she asked quietly.
"Business," James said. Nothing more.
But his grip on the steering wheel was tighter than before, and his eyes were on the road in a way that told her whatever had just been set in motion wasn't going to fade quietly into the background of their lives.