Naya was used to control.
Her life, her career, her emotions—everything was calculated, neatly compartmentalized. Even her relationships. Especially her relationships.
But in the past few days, she had learned that Kian didn't work like that.
He didn't follow the script.
He'd stopped by her office after her latest media storm, offering to pick her up, no questions asked.
When she agreed, she'd told herself it was just practical. A ride. No big deal.
Except, of course, that it was.
The moment she slid into the passenger seat of his car, the air between them thickened. He didn't say anything at first, just started driving. He didn't need to fill the silence with words, as if his presence alone made it unnecessary.
When she finally spoke, her voice felt strange—like it didn't belong to her. "You're not really as cold as you seem."
His eyes flicked to her, and then back to the road. "You think I'm cold?"
She shrugged, staring out the window. "A little. But in a good way. Like you're not trying to impress anyone."
He smirked. "That's one way to put it."
She turned to look at him, noticing the faint lines around his eyes. The quiet strength in his profile. He was older than her more experienced, more measured. In some ways, he seemed like he had everything figured out. In others, he seemed so much more human than any man she had ever met.
And that was dangerous.
---
They stopped by a café on the way home.
It was one of those little places that didn't seem to care about the rush of the world. The barista knew Kian by name. He ordered a simple espresso and a sandwich, while Naya picked a seat by the window.
"You always eat like this?" she asked, watching as he dug into the sandwich without hesitation.
"Like what?"
"Like food isn't an event."
"Eating should be simple." He glanced at her. "You seem to make everything an event."
She blinked, surprised by the statement. "Excuse me?"
"You wear your emotions like armor. If you took it off, you might find you don't need to control everything. Or anyone."
She stared at him, her chest tightening. "That's a very bold thing to say to someone you don't know."
"Not really," he replied, his voice quieter. "I just say what I see."
There was that feeling again—something in the air between them. Something that wasn't just about the contract. Something human. Raw.
He met her gaze fully, and in that moment, the weight of their arrangement—the rules, the boundaries, the entire marriage—felt... small.
Her phone buzzed on the table, breaking the moment.
She glanced at the screen. Another work email, another press request.
But Kian didn't look away. He just sat there, waiting for her to respond.
Waiting for her to react. To feel.