The morning sunlight streamed in through the tall windows, warming the white walls of the Carter estate like golden whispers.
But Ava felt nothing.
She sat at the long dining table, dressed in a pale silk robe, her fingers wrapped around a lukewarm cup of tea. The omelet in front of her had long gone cold—untouched. Forgotten.
Because all she could think about was him.
And last night.
The kiss. The breathless tension. The way their lips had crashed together like a dam breaking. And the haunting quiet that followed when he pulled away.
Jace hadn't spoken a word after that kiss.
He just… stared. As if stunned by what he'd done. Or worse—ashamed of it.
And then, he left the room.
No goodnight. No explanations. No apologies.
Nothing.
Ava wasn't sure what hurt more: the kiss that shook her world—or the silence that followed it.
---
The housekeeper brought in a fresh tray of fruit. "Mr. Carter left early this morning," she said politely. "A meeting at the office."
Of course he did.
Ava gave a stiff nod. "Thanks."
Left without a word. Just like always.
Like she was a convenience. An obligation. A ghost of a wife in a contract that had never asked for feelings.
But that kiss…
That kiss wasn't empty.
It had felt like something real. Like Jace had finally let his guard slip and given her a glimpse of the man behind the icy mask. The man who felt, who wanted, who maybe—just maybe—was starting to care.
Unless she imagined it all.
---
By late afternoon, Ava couldn't take it anymore.
She tried reading. Tried watching a movie. Even tried sketching something to distract herself.
But every time she closed her eyes, she felt his lips on hers. His breath, hot and ragged. The way his hand had trembled slightly when he touched her cheek, like he was afraid of breaking her.
Was it real for him too?
Or was she just… convenient?
She was pacing the hallway in frustration when she heard the front door open.
Jace had returned.
She stood at the top of the staircase and watched him enter. He looked tired. The kind of tired that had nothing to do with work and everything to do with something he didn't want to admit.
His suit jacket hung over one arm, tie loosened at the collar, and for once—he looked less like a billionaire and more like a man unraveling.
She descended the stairs slowly, her heels soft against the floor.
He looked up. Their eyes met.
She didn't hesitate.
"You left early," she said, voice even, but her chest tight.
Jace nodded. "I had meetings."
"Without saying anything?" Her voice cracked slightly. "After last night?"
He dropped his jacket on a nearby chair. "What do you want me to say?"
"I want the truth, Jace," she said. "Even if it's ugly. Even if it hurts."
Silence.
Then: "It scared me."
Her brows furrowed. "The kiss?"
He nodded slowly. "You… scare me, Ava."
That wasn't what she expected.
She folded her arms, but her voice softened. "Why?"
"Because every time I'm near you, I lose control," he said. "And I've spent my entire life learning how to stay in control."
She stepped closer. "And last night?"
His throat bobbed. "I didn't mean for it to happen. But I don't regret it."
"Then why did you leave?"
"Because I felt too much. Too fast," he whispered. "And that… isn't safe."
"For who?" she asked gently. "You? Or me?"
He didn't answer.
Instead, he looked at her like she was both the fire and the only thing keeping him warm.
"You kissed me like I mattered," she said quietly. "And now you're treating it like a mistake."
His voice was low. "It wasn't."
"Then stop pretending," she said. "Stop running."
His hands twitched at his sides, like he wanted to touch her but didn't know how.
"I've never done this before," he said. "Feel things. Want someone… like this."
"Like what?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper now.
"Like I'd lose something if I lost you."
---
The silence between them stretched long and thin.
And then, he crossed the space between them.
Not with urgency. But with intention.
He reached out, fingers brushing her cheek gently.
"Tell me to leave," he whispered. "And I will."
Ava looked up at him, heart aching. "Stay."
He closed his eyes for a beat.
Then opened them—and everything changed.
Jace leaned in slowly, like he was giving her the chance to back away.
She didn't.
Their lips met in the softest of kisses.
It wasn't like the one from last night—desperate and wild.
This one was slow. Thoughtful. Full of things they couldn't say.
He pulled her closer by the waist, and she melted into his chest, her hands resting against his heart—feeling it beat like a warning, like a promise.
When they pulled away, their foreheads rested together.
"This doesn't fix everything," she whispered.
"No," he said. "But it's a start."
---
That night, they didn't kiss again.
They didn't need to.
They sat on the couch for hours, talking. About everything. About nothing.
And for the first time in weeks, the space between them felt real.
Warm. Safe.