CHAPTER NINE — CLOSE ENOUGH TO DANGER
The city lights shimmered beneath Donovan Tower like a river of gold, indifferent to the storm brewing inside the penthouse. Emilia sat at the balcony edge, legs tucked beneath her, her mind racing.
Rule #5—the one she had dreaded most—played in her thoughts like a loop: Maintain the appearance of closeness.
But it wasn't just appearances anymore. It was the weight of Ares's presence, lingering even when he wasn't physically near. Every glance, every subtle brush of his hand, every low murmur had been cataloged in her mind. She was aware of him in ways she hadn't expected, and it terrified her.
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An Unexpected Invitation
Ares stepped onto the balcony without knocking, his dark silhouette framed by the city behind him. Emilia's pulse quickened, though she tried to hide it.
"You're thinking too much," he said, voice low, commanding. "Stop overanalyzing every move. You'll lose yourself."
"I can't," she admitted, her voice soft. "Not when… not when everything feels so close and so controlled."
He moved closer, the heat of his presence radiating off him. The space between them shrank, charged with tension. For a moment, neither spoke. Just the city lights, the quiet hum of the metropolis, and the awareness of how near he was.
"Close enough to feel," he murmured, almost to himself. "But not close enough to touch. Do you understand?"
"Yes," Emilia whispered, heart hammering, though the word felt hollow under the weight of her desire to close the space between them.
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Lydia Strikes Publicly
The next day brought Lydia's next move. Emilia had thought she had seen the worst—a veiled threat, an envelope with an ominous note—but Lydia had escalated.
At a luncheon, Lydia positioned herself beside influential investors, subtly undermining Emilia at every turn. A compliment phrased as a challenge. A question that cast doubt on Emilia's professionalism. Smiles, whispers, stares that made Emilia's stomach twist.
Ares's eyes didn't leave her, subtle and protective, always monitoring. Every time Lydia came too close, he would position himself slightly between them, an unspoken shield.
Emilia felt the tension build, realizing how Rule #5 and Rule #2 intertwined. She had to be close to him, yet distant enough to avoid Lydia's traps. Every step was a delicate balance, and every misstep could be dangerous.
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A Private Walk — Tension Builds
Later, Ares insisted on a private walk through the landscaped terrace. Night air crisp and fragrant with jasmine.
"You're doing well with the rules," he said, voice low and measured. "But closeness isn't just physical. It's emotional. Your attention… your reactions… they all matter."
Emilia's cheeks warmed. She tried to mask the effect his words had on her. "I understand," she said, though her heartbeat betrayed her.
He stopped and turned to face her, stormy eyes catching the ambient light. "Do you feel the rules, Emilia? Or are you following them blindly?"
"I feel them," she admitted, voice barely above a whisper. "Every second."
"Good," he murmured, stepping slightly closer. She could feel the heat from his body, the subtle scent of cedar and something darker, more intoxicating.
A misstep, a glance too long, a brush of hands—the line between duty and desire blurred.
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First Near-Romantic Moment
As they walked, a sudden gust of wind blew her hair into her face. Instinctively, he reached forward, tucking it behind her ear. His fingers lingered for a heartbeat longer than necessary.
Her breath caught. Heart racing. It was a simple gesture, yet it carried weight. Presence, closeness, intent, all wrapped into one.
"Are you… always this… intense?" Emilia asked, her voice shaking slightly, though she tried to appear calm.
"Only when necessary," he replied, tone smooth, measured—but there was an edge beneath it. Danger, desire, and something unspoken.
Her chest tightened. She had to remind herself: this was a contract, not a relationship. Yet every inch of her body screamed otherwise.
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A Hidden Threat Moves
Back at the penthouse, a new message appeared on Ares's secure line. A subtle alert he hadn't noticed in front of Emilia.
He's closer than you think. Watch her. —Unknown
Ares's jaw tightened imperceptibly. He didn't speak immediately, only observed Emilia as she unpacked her notes from the terrace walk.
The message was short, cryptic, and chilling. The hidden enemy—the one whose presence had hovered over the first chapters—was making a move. Watching. Waiting. Testing.
Ares's protective instincts surged. Emilia didn't fully understand, but she felt the shift—the subtle change in his posture, the sharper edge in his gaze.
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A Moment Alone — Confession Hinted
Later, alone in the penthouse, Emilia tried to focus on mundane tasks: organizing the black folder, reviewing schedules, memorizing rules. But her mind kept drifting back to the terrace, to the brush of his fingers, to the weight of his gaze.
Ares appeared silently behind her, his voice low. "Do you understand the gravity of our position, Emilia?"
"Yes," she whispered. "I think I do."
He stepped closer, the space between them shrinking again. "Do you feel it? The danger? The tension?"
"Yes," she admitted, unable to hide her racing heart.
He didn't answer with words. He simply studied her, eyes unreadable yet consuming. The room felt smaller, warmer, charged with unspoken possibilities.
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Lydia's Next Escalation
The following morning brought another note from Lydia, this time slipped under Emilia's door:
You're stepping into a game you cannot win. He will never be yours.
Emilia's fingers shook as she read it aloud. The words were venomous, personal, and designed to destabilize her.
Before she could react, Ares entered. He took the note from her, read it once, then set it aside with deliberate precision.
"Lydia's tactics are escalating," he said, voice low and dangerous. "But she will not succeed. You will follow the rules. You will stay close. And you will survive."
"Yes, sir," Emilia said, swallowing hard, aware that obedience was safety, and safety was temporary.
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Danger Draws Near
Later that night, as Emilia prepared for bed, a faint sound outside the penthouse made her freeze. Footsteps. Soft, deliberate.
She moved to the window, but saw nothing. Ares appeared silently behind her, stormy and alert.
"Someone is watching," he murmured. His hand brushed hers—not by accident, but intentional, grounding, protective.
Her pulse hammered. The threat was no longer abstract. The hidden enemy was near, and Lydia's sabotage had crossed a new line.
Ares's voice dropped to a near whisper: "You're mine. And I will not let anyone touch you—not her, not them, not anyone."
Her breath caught. Heart racing. She realized, with a mixture of fear and longing, that being close to him had become dangerous in more ways than one.
The city below Donovan Tower glittered and hummed, unaware of the storm rising within its tallest building.
And Emilia Hart was caught in it—close enough to feel, close enough to burn, and far too close to resist.