Sofia's body was stiff in his arms—tense, guarded—but she didn't pull away. And that alone felt like a small miracle. It wasn't acceptance, but it wasn't rejection either.
And Adam had learned, in both boardrooms and heartbreak, that sometimes a pause was all the opening you needed.
The world around them had stilled—the chaotic buzz of phones, keyboards, gossip, even breath—gone. The entire lobby felt like it had frozen mid-spin. And while dozens of eyes clung to their every movement like vultures circling scandal, Adam only saw her.
He leaned in, voice low, velvet-draped steel brushing the delicate shell of her ear. Her scent hit him—faint jasmine, subtle and wild—and he had to steady himself before he could even speak.
"Just pretend for a second," he murmured, letting the bouquet press between them, careful not to overwhelm her. "Let them believe what they want to believe. Make them look as stupid as they sound."
