Third person POV


    Lance stood outside I''s door longer than he meant to.


    It was an unfamiliar hesitation, one that sat wrong in his chest. He was used to action-decisions made quickly, words spoken inly, problems confronted head-on. Pacing corridors and second-guessing himself was not his style.


    But Nn''s words echoed anyway.


    Be steady. Be patient. Listen.


    It felt a little bit like asking a fire not to be hot. Lance had always been reckless. He was a racer, after all. You didn''t get behind the wheel of a car intending to push it as fast as possible just for the thrill if you were a cautious person.


    But for I, he had to try. She made him feel things he''d never felt before, made him want to be different for her. More cautious. More gentle.


    He lifted his hand and knocked.


    There was a pause. Long enough that he almost turned away.


    Then the door opened.


    I stood there in a simple dress, hair loosely pulled back, her expression carefully neutral. Too carefully. Her eyes flicked over him, then away, already preparing to retreat.


    "Lance," she said. "I didn''t know you wereing."


    "I know," he replied. "That''s why I did."


    Her shoulders tensed, but she stepped aside to let him in.


    The sitting room was quiet, sunlight filtering through tall windows and catching on the polished wood floors. It felt too formal for a conversation like this, tooposed, but Lance suspected that was intentional. I liked order. Control.


    At least she didtely. It didn''t seem that way when she was crashing a party on his houseboat because he was avoiding their arranged meeting. This felt more like a retreat. Like she was craving order and predictability despite herself.


    All things that were slipping through her fingers.


    She gestured to a chair but remained standing herself, arms crossed loosely in front of her chest, tense and defensive.


    "If this is about this morning-" she began.


    "It''s not," Lance interrupted gently. "At least not just that."


    She frowned. "Then what is it about?"


    +25 Bonus


    He took a breath, grounding himself. "It''s about us."


    The word seemed to hit her physically. Her posture stiffened, chin lifting defensively.


    "There is no ''us'' to discuss," she said coolly. "We''re... spending time together. That''s all."


    The words hit him like the punch of a de in his ribs, but he took the blow without reacting.


    Lance nodded once. "That''s what it was supposed to be."


    Her gaze snapped back to his. "Supposed to be?"


    "I didn''t n on caring this much," he said simply. "And I get the sense that you didn''t either."


    She turned away, moving toward the window. "You''re reading into things."


    "Am I?" he asked. He didn''t follow her, giving her space the way Nn had advised, no matter how hard it was. " Because you''ve been pulling away. Avoiding being seen with me. Cancelling ns without exnation. And I don''t think it''s because you lost interest."


    Silence.


    I''s fingers curled against the window frame.


    "I didn''te here to argue,” Lance continued. "I came here because I care about you. And because whatever''s going on... I want to understand it. I want to listen. I don''t want whatever this is to tear apart what''s building between us, and I don''t think you do either."


    Sheughed, sharp and brittle. "Listening won''t fix this."


    "Maybe not,” he agreed. “But not listening will definitely break it."


    That got her attention.


    She turned slowly, studying his face as if searching for something-judgment, perhaps, or impatience. Whatever she was expecting, she didn''t find it.


    "I don''t want to hurt you," she said quietly.


    The wordsnded heavier than anger would have.


    "You already are," Lance replied honestly. "But I don''t think it''s intentional."


    Herposure cracked then, just a little. She swallowed hard.


    "I didn''t expect this," she said. "Any of it."


    "Neither did I," Lance admitted.


    She crossed the room and finally sat, hands sped tightly in herp. When she spoke again, her voice was strained, pulled tight by restraint.


    "This was supposed to be simple," she said. "A political arrangement. Something clean and mutually beneficial."


    +25 Bonus


    Lance''s chest tightened. "You''re talking about us."


    "Yes," she said. "Or what my family wanted us to be."


    He waited.


    "My parents arranged this match years ago," I continued. "Long before you and I ever met. They saw Silver Fang as an opportunity-ess, influence, protection.


    They thought aligning with you would give them leverage.”


    Lance''s jaw clenched, but he didn''t interrupt.


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