Nessa knew she should say no, she Knew she should walk away, she knew this was the exact kind of moment she needed distance from.
But she couldn't, not when he was looking at her like that— like she was the one thing in the room he couldn't pull his gaze from.
"…okay," she breathed.
Louis exhaled slowly, not relief, not satisfaction, but Control. Barely.
he murmured. "Let's go."
The car ride was quiet. Quiet… but charged.
Louis didn't speak.
He just drove, hand relaxed on the wheel, posture straight, jaw set—like he was concentrating on the road only because if he looked at her again, he'd lose something he wasn't ready to lose.
Nessa kept her eyes on the window, trying not to remember the dream.
Trying not to remember the balcony.
Trying not to remember his mouth—
Her cheeks burned, she could feel his glances,Short. Controlled.
Like he was checking if she was real,like he wanted to stare but wouldn't.
The city blurred past, Nessa heartbeat didn't slow.
"Louis… this isn't a restaurant," she said softly.
The car had pulled into an underground private parking garage she didn't recognize.
He turned off the engine.
Only then did he look at her fully—finally—letting his eyes settle on her with a kind of quiet gravity that stole her breath.
"No," he said. "It isn't."He stepped out.
She followed, pulse hammering.The elevator ride was worse, small space, no escape.
His presence filling everything. She could feel him beside her— the heat, the tension, the restraint, he didn't touch her, he didn't even turn her way, but she felt watched,. Seen,. Wanted.
When the elevator doors opened, he walked ahead, stopping in front of a sleek penthouse door.
Nessa's heart climbed into her throat.
"Louis…" she whispered. "Why here?"
He looked back at her—slow, deliberate.
Eyes darker than she had ever seen them.
"Because," he murmured, "I didn't want an audience." Her pulse stumbled.
He unlocked the door and pushed it open.
Then he stepped aside, giving her space to enter first—quiet, almost gentlemanly, but with a tension that made her skin prickle.
"Nessa." She turned.
He held her gaze, voice low and controlled to the point of breaking.
"Come in."
Her breath trembled, she walked inside.
Louis closed the door behind them, the click sounded too loud, too final, too charged.
When she turned again, he was already looking at her—like she was the only thing in the room, like he had finally let himself.
The penthouse was silent. Too silent.
Nessa arms were wrapped around herself—not from cold, but from the tightening ache in her chest, she was trying so hard to act normal, to breathe normally, to keep her thoughts from slipping somewhere they shouldn't…
The dream, his lips,his hands, his voice whispering her name like a sin and the silent between them. She swallowed it all down, she couldn't let it show, she didn't want him to see how badly she was unraveling for him.
Louis walked past her, controlled, composed, every movement deliberate—as if he were containing something beneath his skin again. She could feel his gaze flick toward her then away… like he was checking if she was okay but refusing to look long enough to betray himself.
"Can I take your coat?" he asked quietly.
She shook her head, voice small.
"I'm fine."
It was a lie and he knew it.
Louis stopped a few steps away from her, turning slightly—enough that he could see the tension in her eyes and her movements .
"You're tense," he said softly.
Her breath hitched.
She hated how quickly tears stung behind her eyes, not because of the dream, not because she wanted him, but because of everything he didn't do…
The text,The call, He didn't reply to any of it,he just left her hanging, he didn't show up until it was convenient for him.
And she always… always waited.
Before she could look away, Louis noticed something in her expression. His brow furrowed the tiniest bit—barely there, but enough to show he registered the shift.
"Nessa," he said, voice lower. "What's wrong?"
She shook her head again, lips pressing tightly together, "Nothing".
He took a small step closer—not touching, not near enough to crowd her, but enough that she could feel the change in the air. The closeness.
"Nessa," he repeated, softer. "Tell me."
She forced a small smile, but it didn't reach her eyes.
"You don't have to pretend to worry about me," she whispered.
"I know you're busy. I know you don't… have time to think about me as much as I think about you."
Louis froze, Just slightly, but enough.
Nessa looked down, twisting her fingers together, she couldn't look at him, not when her chest felt like it was folding in on itself.
"It's just…" she breathed shakily.
"I keep hoping you'll reach out. Even a little. Even once."
Her voice cracked just faintly.
"And you don't."
Louis didn't move, not a blink, not a breath.
Just… stillness.
That dangerous, heavy kind of stillness he only had when he was fighting something inside himself.
"I sent you a message," she said, voice trembling even though she tried so hard to keep it steady.
"And you didn't reply. It shouldn't hurt this much, but it did."
A deep, sharp, suffocating silence.
She finally looked up.
Louis's expression was unreadable—but his eyes… his eyes were storming.
Dark. Heavy. Like he was swallowing emotions he refused to show.
"Nessa," he said quietly, stepping closer until she could feel the warmth radiating off him.
"If I didn't reply… it wasn't because I didn't want to."
Nessa blinked.
"Then why?" She whispered.
Louis hesitated.
It was the first time she'd ever seen him hesitate.
Louis bowed his head slightly, releasing a slow, controlled breath—as if the truth might break through his composure if he exhaled too fast.
"You don't understand," he murmured.
"Every time you reach out to me… it gets harder."
Her heart ached at the softness in his voice.
"Harder to stay away?" she whispered.
His eyes met hers—this time fully, openly—and the depth there nearly stole her breath.
"No," he said.
"Harder to stay in control."
Nessa's lips parted, breath trembling