❀LENA❀

Three days after the hospital, Margaret came home.

Not to her old apartment, Adrian had arranged something better. A ground-floor unit in a building with an elevator, twenty-four-hour nursing care, and a view of the park. When I walked in with her, she cried.

"This is too much," she whispered.

"It's what you deserve."

She looked at me with those knowing eyes. "He loves you. Your husband. He must."

I busied myself unpacking her things. "He's just being thorough."

"Men don't arrange this kind of care for their mother-in-law unless they're in love with their wife."

I wanted to believe her. God, I wanted to.

But Adrian had barely looked at me since the hospital kiss. Three days of careful distance. Separate schedules. Polite nothing across the dinner table when he bothered to come home for dinner at all.

"It's complicated," I said finally.

Margaret touched my hand. "The best things always are."

I was making tea that night when he came home.

11:47 PM. I'd memorized his patterns by now. Late enough that I should be asleep. Early enough that he was still thinking about work.

He stopped when he saw me in the kitchen.

"You're up late."

"Couldn't sleep." I poured hot water over the tea bag. "Want some?"

He hesitated. Then: "Sure."

We stood on opposite sides of the kitchen island while the tea steeped. The silence stretched, heavy with everything we weren't saying.

"Margaret's settled in?" he asked.

"Yes. Thank you for the apartment. You didn't have to…"

"I wanted to." He met my eyes. "She's important to you. That makes her important."

My breath caught.

"Adrian..."

"How's her recovery?"

Back to safe topics. I let him retreat.

"Good. Dr. Chen says she's healing faster than expected." I slid his cup across the island. Our fingers brushed. Neither of us pulled away fast enough. "The nurses you hired are wonderful."

"Good." He took a sip. Grimaced. "You put sugar in it."

"You need the sweetness. You're bitter enough."

A smile. Actual smile. Small, but real.

"Was that a joke, Mrs. Knight?"

"I'm capable of humor, Mr. Knight."

"I'm starting to notice."

The air between us shifted. Less heavy. More dangerous.

He set down his cup. "We should talk. About what happened at the hospital."

My stomach dropped. "Should we?"

"The kiss was.."

"If you say 'a mistake' one more time, I'm going to throw this tea at you."

His eyes widened. Then he laughed. I actually laughed, and the sound did something devastating to my chest.

"I was going to say 'inevitable,'" he finished quietly.

"Oh."

"You make me lose control, Lena. I don't lose control. Ever. It's dangerous."

"Maybe you need something dangerous."

He looked at me like I'd suggested something obscene. Maybe I had.

"The contract.."

"Says no emotional involvement. I know. You've reminded me seventeen times." I moved around the island. Closer. "But that ship has sailed, Adrian. We're involved. Emotionally and otherwise."

"Otherwise?" His voice dropped an octave.

"You kissed me. Twice. That's not a contractual obligation."

"It was comfortable. You were upset about your mother…"

"Bullshit." I stepped into his space. Close enough to smell his cologne. See the pulse jumping in his throat.

"You kissed me because you wanted to. Because somewhere between signing that contract and right now, this stopped being fake for you."

"Lena." My name was a warning.

"Say it." I tilted my chin up. Defiant. "Say you don't feel anything. That I'm just another transaction. Look me in the eye and lie to me."

He stared at me. Jaw clenched. Gray eyes storming.

Then his hand came to my waist, pulling me against him.

"I can't," he whispered against my lips. "I can't lie to you."

The kiss was different this time. Slower. Deliberate. Like he was memorizing the taste of me, the feel of me against him.

I melted into it, hands sliding up his chest, feeling his heart pound under my palms.

He backed me against the counter, his body caging mine, and I'd never felt more trapped and free at the same time.

"This is a terrible idea," he murmured against my mouth.

"The worst."

"We should stop."

"Probably."

But neither of us stopped.

His lips trailed down my jaw, my neck, and I gasped when he found that sensitive spot below my ear.

"Adrian..."

"Say stop. Please, Lena, say stop."

"Don't stop."

He groaned, pulling me impossibly closer. The kitchen island pressed into my back. His hands were everywhere, my waist, my hips, sliding into my hair.

This was dangerous. Reckless. Everything the contract said we shouldn't do.

I didn't care.

"We need rules," he said between kisses.

"We have rules."

"New ones." He pulled back just enough to meet my eyes. His pupils were blown wide, lips swollen from kissing. "If we're doing this, whatever this is, we do it honestly. No more pretending. No more lies."

"No more calling this a mistake?"

"It's not a mistake." He cupped my face. "It's the realest thing I've felt in years. That terrifies me."

"Me too."

"But the contract still stands. One year. When it's over..."

"We'll figure it out."

He searched my face. "You're sure about this?"

No. I wasn't sure about anything except the way my heart raced when he looked at me like that.

"Kiss me again," I whispered.

So he did.

We stayed in that kitchen until nearly 2 AM. Kissing. Talking. Learning each other in ways the contract never allowed.

I learned he was ticklish just below his ribs. That he'd never celebrated a birthday after his mother died. He slept three hours a night and drank coffee like water.

He learned I hummed when I was nervous. That I'd never been outside New York. That I was terrified of thunder but loved rain.

"We should sleep," he said eventually, though neither of us moved.

"Separately?"

He hesitated. Then: "I'm not ready for more. Not yet. Is that okay?"

"More than okay." I touched his face. "We don't have to rush this."

"Even though we only have a year?"

"Especially because we only have a year."

He kissed my forehead. Soft. Tender. Nothing like the Ice King the world knew.

"Goodnight, Lena."

"Goodnight, Adrian."

I watched him walk to his room. He paused at his door, looked back at me, smiled.

Then he was gone.

I stood in the kitchen, touching my swollen lips, feeling lighter than I had in years.

This was dangerous.

This was reckless.

This was the best mistake I'd ever made.