When Maddox ca out, wearing his own hotel robe, he found Elira in the kitchenette. She’d changed into comfortable clothes—soft pants and an oversized sweater that sohow made her look both casual and elegant.
"I ordered room service," she said without looking up from the stove. "But I thought I’d make us sothing while we wait."
"You cook?"
She laughed, the sound lighter than he’d heard from her all evening. "I’m a nutritionist, Eric. Of course I cook."
Right. That made sense.
She was making sothing simple—pasta with what looked like a cream sauce. The sll filled the small kitchen area, warm and comforting.
"Can I help?" he asked.
"Just sit." She nodded toward the small dining table. "You’ve done enough tonight."
He wasn’t sure what she ant by that, but he did as she asked. Watching her move around the kitchen was oddly soothing. She worked with quiet efficiency, tasting the sauce, adjusting seasonings.
"Wine?" she asked, opening a bottle that must have co with the room service order.
"Sure."
She poured two glasses and brought them to the table, then returned to finish the pasta.
"So," she said as she worked, "how has Jenna been? I haven’t seen her since last sumr."
Last sumr. Another piece of Eric’s history that Maddox didn’t have access to.
"She’s good," he said carefully. "Growing up fast. Sotis I can’t believe she’s already at university."
"She was always mature for her age." Elira plated the pasta, the presentation elegant despite the simple ingredients. "Even when she was little, she had this way of seeing through people’s nonsense."
That sounded like the Jenna he knew. Sharp, observant, impossible to fool.
"She asks about you sotis," he said, the words coming out before he could stop them.
Elira paused, a forkful of pasta halfway to her mouth. "She does?"
"She wonders why you don’t co around anymore."
Of course he was making it up. It was a risk, fishing for information like that. But he needed to understand the dynamics he’d walked into.
Pain flickered across Elira’s face. "What do you tell her?"
"That we’re both busy. That work gets complicated."
"Work." She set down her fork, appetite apparently gone. "Is that what we’re calling it now?"
The question hung in the air between them. Maddox took a sip of wine, buying ti to think.
"What would you call it?" he asked finally.
For a long mont, she didn’t answer. Then she reached across the table and took his hand, thumb tracing across his knuckles.
"I’d call it the most important thing in my life," she said quietly. "Even when it’s destroying ."
The raw honesty in her voice made his chest tight. This wasn’t just physical attraction or a casual affair. This was deep, complicated love with real consequences.
"Elira..."
"I know what people might think." She squeezed his hand. "That I’m just so woman trying to break up a marriage. That I’m naive or desperate or both."
"That’s not what I think."
"Isn’t it?" Her blue eyes t his, searching. "Because sotis I wonder if that’s exactly what you think. If that’s why you’ve been pulling away."
Maddox felt like he was walking through a minefield. Every word could explode in his face.
"I think," he said carefully, "that this situation is harder than either of us expected it to be."
She nodded slowly. "It is hard. But that doesn’t make it wrong."
"Doesn’t it?"
The question escaped before he could stop it. Elira’s hand went still on his.
"Do you think it’s wrong?" she asked, voice barely above a whisper.
He should say yes. Should end this before it went any further. Should be the responsible one.
Instead, he found himself turning his hand over so their fingers could intertwine.
"I think," he said, "that right and wrong aren’t always as clear as people pretend they are."
Relief flooded her face. She brought their joined hands to her lips, pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles.
"I missed this," she whispered. "Just talking to you. Being with you without all the walls."
She stood up, still holding his hand, and walked around the table to where he sat. Without a word, she settled into his lap, arms coming up to circle his neck.
"I missed you so much, Eric," she breathed against his ear.
And despite everything—the lies, the confusion, the moral complexity of it all—Maddox found himself holding her back.
"I missed you too," he said, and was surprised to find he ant it.
At least partially.
They stayed like that for a long mont, holding each other in the warm glow of the suite’s lights. Outside, the city humd with life. But inside their bubble, there was only the two of them and the weight of choices that couldn’t be undone.
"Should we watch sothing?" Elira asked after a while, her voice soft against his neck.
"What did you have in mind?"
She smiled, that mischievous expression he was beginning to recognize. "There’s a horror movie I’ve been wanting to see. Sothing about a haunted house."
"You like being scared?"
"Only when I have soone to hold onto," she said, fingers playing with the collar of his robe.
The double aning wasn’t lost on him. Everything with Elira seed to have layers, hidden anings beneath surface conversations.
"Alright," he said. "But if you scream, I’m not responsible for what happens."
Her laugh was warm, genuine. "I’ll try to contain myself."
She moved to the couch, curling up against the cushions while he found the remote. The hotel’s entertainnt system was top-of-the-line, with access to dozens of streaming services.
"This one," Elira said, pointing to a recent release about a family moving into a house with a dark history.
They settled in together, Elira’s head on his shoulder, his arm around her waist. The movie started with typical horror setup—a young family with financial troubles, and a house that was too good to be true.
"Classic mistake," Elira murmured during the opening scene. "Never trust a house that’s suspiciously affordable."
"Speaking from experience?"
"My family has a property developnt company," she said casually. "Trust , cheap houses are cheap for a reason."
Another piece of information about her background. Rich family, business connections, enough money for personal assistants and hotel suites.
No wonder she could afford to be Eric’s secret lover without Alina’s knowledge. She had the resources to make complicated situations work.
As the movie progressed, Elira kept up a running comntary. Smart observations about the characters’ choices, predictions about plot twists, the occasional jump scare that made her press closer to him.
"Told you so," she whispered when the movie’s big reveal proved her prediction right.
"Show off," he said, but he was smiling.
This was nice. Comfortable in a way he hadn’t expected. Just sitting together, watching a movie, acting like a normal couple.
Except they weren’t a normal couple. And this wasn’t a normal situation.
When the credits rolled, Elira turned in his arms to face him. Her eyes were bright, cheeks flushed from wine and laughter.
"Thank you," she said softly.
"For what?"
"For tonight. For being here. For rembering what we used to be like together."
Used to be like. Past tense. As if sothing had changed between them before tonight.
"What were we like?" he asked, genuinely curious.
She studied his face, sothing unreadable in her expression. "We were happy," she said finally. "Really, truly happy. Even when everything else was complicated."
Her hand ca up to cup his cheek, thumb brushing across his skin.
"I want to be happy again, Eric. With you."
The words hung between them, heavy with implication. This was the mont. The choice point where everything would change or stay the sa.
Maddox looked into her blue eyes, saw the love and hope and desperate longing there. Saw a woman who had built her world around a man who wasn’t even really there anymore.
He leaned forward and kissed her.
This kiss was different from the one in the bar. Deeper, more certain. Full of promises and possibilities and the kind of desperate need that cos from months of separation.
When they broke apart, both of them were breathing hard.
"Stay with tonight," Elira whispered against his lips. "Really stay. Not just physically, but... all of you."
Maddox closed his eyes, feeling the weight of Eric’s life pressing down on him. The choices, the consequences, the love that had been left behind.
"Okay," he said quietly. "I’m here. All of ."
And for tonight, at least, he ant it.
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