He ran a hand through his hair as he started descending the last few steps in his memory—the stairs replaying in his mind even though his feet were now firmly planted on the office floor. Every step he had taken away from her felt wrong. Too slow. Too deliberate. Like he was retreating from something he didn't want to name.
"What are you doing with her?" he whispered to himself.
Getting close?
So close?
His jaw clenched. The images came uninvited. Her slipping. Her sharp intake of breath. The instinctive way his arm had wrapped around her waist. Her eyes—wide, startled, searching his face as if trying to read something he had never let anyone see. The loose strands of her hair brushed against his wrist. The warmth of her body against his chest.
Kai straightened abruptly, pushing himself off the door as if the memory itself had touched him. "No," he said aloud. "No."
He crossed the room in long strides and dropped into his chair, gripping the armrests tightly. His chest felt tight. Unsettled. Like something had slipped out of alignment inside him. He shook his head sharply, as if that could dislodge the thoughts.
"I can't do that," he told himself. "I won't." He leaned forward, elbows on the desk, staring at the polished surface without really seeing it.
"She's dangerous," he continued, his voice lower now. "Far more dangerous than she looks."
''Especially after yesterday.''
The legal document flashed in his mind—the words License Fee: Nil, Non-revocable, Irrevocable during term. The calm precision with which she had let him walk straight into a trap. The way she had stood there, composed, almost amused, while his control slipped through his fingers line by line. As if she had known. As if she had planned it long before she ever stepped into his house. Kai exhaled slowly, trying to steady his thoughts.
"It's like I saw something yesterday," he murmured. "A crack. A glimpse of her real face."
Not the polite, composed Alina everyone else saw. Not the woman who pretended to be lost around sensor taps and unfamiliar rooms. But someone sharper. Someone who calculated three moves ahead and smiled while doing it. Someone who could disarm him with paperwork one moment—and almost disarm him emotionally the next.
His fingers curled into a fist. "That's how she works," he said, more firmly now. "Distraction. Misdirection."
He stood abruptly and moved toward the window, staring out at the grounds below. Guards moved in their routine paths. Staff crossed the courtyard, unaware of the war playing out inside his head.
"She wants me off balance," he continued. "She wants me to slip."
And for a terrifying second in that bathroom— He had. Kai pressed his palm against the glass, grounding himself.
"You don't get close to someone like that," he told his reflection, faintly visible in the window. "You observe. You watch. You wait."
Because if he didn't— If he let his guard down— He would miss the moment she revealed her true agenda. And yet, no matter how hard he tried, another image surfaced.
Her hand in his. The water started suddenly. The quiet surprise on her face. The way neither of them had pulled away immediately. Kai shut his eyes tightly.
"Damn it, she's playing with you," he said sharply, as if scolding himself.
The game wasn't just legal anymore. It was psychological. And Kai Arden hated games he wasn't winning. He straightened, squaring his shoulders, forcing the familiar mask back into place.
"Fine," he said quietly. "Play."
He turned back to his desk, picked up a file, and opened it with deliberate calm. "But I'll be ready."
What he didn't say—what he refused to acknowledge—was the one thought that lingered stubbornly beneath all the logic, all the suspicion, all the control.
If she truly was dangerous, then why did being close to her feel so disturbingly right?
Kai Arden's office was seventh floor above the city, wrapped in glass and steel, overlooking a skyline that bent itself toward him. From here, the world looked orderly. Predictable. People moved like pieces on a board—cars like ants, buildings like quiet witnesses.
He stood near the window, hands in his pockets, posture relaxed but alert, as if even stillness required control. The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the polished floor, touching nothing without permission. A knock echoed behind him.
"Come in," Kai said, without turning.
The door opened softly. Footsteps followed—measured, professional. Kai recognized that sound. The sound of someone who knew where to step and how loudly. When he finally turned, the man standing there looked exactly as expected. Mid-thirties. Clean-cut. Dark suit. No unnecessary movement. The kind of man who did his job efficiently and never asked why.
"Sir," the man said, stepping forward and holding out a sleek tablet. "It's done. Exactly as you instructed."
Kai's eyes dropped briefly to the device, then back to the man's face. "Tell."
The man nodded. "Every corner of the house has been covered. Interior and exterior. Hallways, living spaces, entry points, staircases. There isn't a single area where the cameras don't reach."
Kai took the tablet from his hand, his fingers brushing the cold glass surface. The weight of it felt insignificant—but what it carried was not.
"No blind spots," the man continued. "No gaps. Even the angles people don't usually consider."
Kai swiped the screen once. Instantly, the display split into multiple frames. His house—his space—appeared before him in silent fragments. The living room. The kitchen. The corridor outside the guest room. The stairs. The balcony. Even the quiet corners where shadows liked to hide. His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
"Audio?" Kai asked.
"Selective," the man replied. "Activated only where necessary. Bedrooms excluded, as per your instruction."
Kai nodded once. "You can go."
The man hesitated for half a second, then inclined his head. "If you need adjustments—"
"I won't," Kai said calmly.
The door closed behind the man with a soft click. Silence returned. Kai walked to his desk and sat down slowly, the chair barely making a sound as it accepted his weight. He placed the tablet on the surface but didn't look at it immediately. Instead, he leaned back slightly, fingers resting together, gaze unfocused. Alina Carter. The name surfaced uninvited, as it had been doing far too often lately.
"What are you up to?" he murmured, his voice low, almost thoughtful.
He reached forward and tapped the screen. The cameras came alive again. There she was. In the kitchen. Barefoot. Wearing one of his shirts—too long on her, sleeves rolled once, hair tied loosely as she stood at the counter, distracted, unaware. She was humming something softly, her movements unguarded, real in a way that irritated him more than it should have.
Kai's eyes darkened. "There has to be a reason," he said quietly. "You don't take a risk this big without one."
He zoomed in slightly, watching her hands move as she poured water into a glass. Her posture was relaxed—but Kai didn't buy it. He never trusted ease. Especially not hers.
"You don't walk into my house without an agenda," he continued, his tone steady, controlled. "Not unless you're certain you'll survive it."
His thumb hovered over the screen, then swiped again. Another camera angle. The guest room. Her bag lay near the bed, partially open. Ordinary. Innocent-looking. Too innocent. Kai leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk now. His gaze sharpened, his mind working the way it always did—fast, precise, relentless.
"You came to me through law," he said softly. "You didn't beg. You didn't threaten. You signed your way in."
His lips curved into something that wasn't a smile. "That tells me everything."
He remembered the document. The clauses. The way she had stood there, calm, composed, watching him sign as if she already knew the outcome. At the time, he had told himself it was leverage. Opportunism.
Now?. Now it felt deliberate.
"You're hiding something," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "And you're hiding it in my house." His fingers tapped once against the desk.
"No one takes shelter under a lion unless they're either fearless… or hunting."
He switched camera views again. The hallway. Alina stepped out of the room, pausing for a second as if she sensed something. Her eyes flicked upward, scanning the ceiling instinctively. Kai's breath stilled. She frowned slightly, then shook her head and continued walking. A slow exhale escaped him.
"You won't find them," he said to the empty room. "Not unless I want you to."
He leaned back again, eyes never leaving the screen. "You think you're one step ahead," he admitted quietly. "And maybe you were."
His gaze hardened. "But this time, you walked into my territory."
The city outside glittered as the sun dipped lower, reflecting off the glass walls like a warning. Kai Arden had built empires by knowing everything before anyone else did. And now, with a house full of eyes and a woman full of secrets— He intended to uncover every single one of them.
"No more games, Alina Carter," he said, voice cold, decisive. "I will find out why you're here."
The screen reflected in his eyes as he watched her move through his house, unaware that the walls themselves were listening. The hunt had begun.