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Eliana bit her lip, warmth blooming across her brown skin under the weight of his gaze. The air between them thickened, humming with sothing unspoken and dangerously familiar. She should pull away. She knew that. Retreat into the safety she’d built brick by brick. But her body, traitorous thing, leaned into the sensation—the hormones, the exhaustion, the love she’d tried to bury flickering back to life like stubborn embers refusing to die.

"Fine," she muttered, surrendering just enough to be dangerous as her feet slipped back into his lap. "But only for a minute. And stop with the charm. It’s not working."

He humd, amused, his thumbs pressing into a sore spot with infuriating precision. A soft, involuntary sigh escaped her before she could stop it.

"Oh, it’s not?" he murmured, leaning in just enough for his voice to drop into that low, conspiratorial tone she rembered far too well. "Because that sigh sounded suspiciously like appreciation. Admit it, Mrs. Vexley—I’m winning you back one knot at a ti."

She rolled her eyes, but the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her. "Don’t get cocky, Mr. Vexley," she warned lightly. "This is temporary tolerance. Not surrender."

His grin widened—slow, confident, and far too pleased.

As the minutes stretched on, the massage evolved into sothing almost hypnotic. Rafael’s hands moved with expert care, kneading away the tension from her heels to her toes, his piercing eyes occasionally flicking up to et hers, searching for signs of discomfort or, perhaps, forgiveness. The room was quiet save for the soft rustle of the bedsheets and their breathing—hers steadying, his a bit uneven, as if he were holding back a torrent of words. Eliana leaned back against the pillows, her slender fra relaxing despite her best efforts. The emotional walls she’d built felt like they were cracking, just a little, under the weight of his persistence.

But she wouldn’t give in. Not fully. "Rafael," she said after a while, her voice softer now, laced with the vulnerability she tried to hide. "Why are you doing this? Really? The cooking, the kneeling, now this... It’s not like you."

He hesitated, his hands stilling for a beat before continuing. When he spoke, his tone was raw, stripped of sarcasm. "Because I almost lost you tonight. And not just from the argunt—from my own stupidity. I’ve spent so long hiding behind walls, faking disabilities to test people’s loyalties, that I forgot how to be real. With you... you make want to be real. Scared as hell, but real."

Her heart ached at his words, the sincerity hitting her like a gentle wave. She rembered the man he’d been—the recluse billionaire, suspicious of everyone after his family’s betrayal. But she also rembered the hurt he’d caused her. "I want to believe that," she admitted, her expressive eyes glistening. "But after what happened before... when you thought I’d betrayed you, and you just... shut out. Didn’t even let explain. I had to rely on Henry. If sothing like that happens again..."

"It won’t," he interjected softly, his grip on her foot tightening just enough to convey his earnestness. "I swear on everything I have. I’ve learned, Eliana. Painfully. But I get it—you’re scared. Hell, I’m terrified too. That’s why I’m here, on my knees—figuratively now—begging for a chance to prove it."

She pulled her feet away this ti, more decisively, tucking them under the covers as if to create a barrier. "Then prove it another day. Not with massages and soup. With actions. Real change."

Rafael nodded, accepting the boundary even if it clearly cost him sothing. A flicker of disappointnt crossed his eyes before he pushed himself to his feet, his tall fra unfolding like a shadow in the lamplight. For a mont, she thought he would leave—but he didn’t. Instead, he lingered, raking a hand through his already-mussed hair like a man caught between restraint and instinct.

"You’re right," he said finally, voice low. Then, softer, "But it’s late. And with the baby..." He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "You shouldn’t be alone if you start feeling unwell. So—what if I just stay?" He gestured toward the armchair across the room. "Right there. Strictly professional distance. Think of as a guard dog. No funny business. I swear."

Eliana lifted an eyebrow, amusent slipping through the cracks of her resolve. "A guard dog?" she echoed. "You? The big, terrifying CEO reduced to puppy duty?"

He grinned instantly, that sharp, commanding presence lting into sothing disarmingly boyish as he dropped into the armchair and stretched his long legs out. "Woof," he said without sha. "See? Fully dosticated. Now go to sleep. I’ll be right here if you need anything—even if it’s just to throw a pillow at my head."

She opened her mouth, ready to tell him to leave. To be firm. Sensible. Strong.

But the words refused to co.

Instead, she shook her head, a quiet laugh escaping as she slid beneath the covers. Her heart betrayed her, fluttering foolishly in her chest. "You’re impossible," she murmured, glancing at him through half-lidded eyes. "You know that, right?"

Rafael smiled—slow, gentle, and far too satisfied—"Impossibly devoted," he countered with a wink, dimming the lamp to a faint glow.

The night wore on in a haze of unspoken tension, the kind that made the air feel charged with electricity. Eliana lay there, pretending to sleep, but her mind raced—hormones whispering temptations, mories shouting warnings. Every so often, she’d glance at him through half-closed lids, watching as he shifted in the chair, trying to get comfortable in his crisp shirt, his grey eyes reflecting the moonlight filtering through the curtains. He looked ridiculous, this billionaire tycoon folded into an armchair like a pretzel, but it was oddly charming. Once, when she stirred restlessly, he whispered, "Everything okay? Water? Another massage?"

"No," she murmured back, suppressing a giggle at his eagerness. "Go to sleep, Rafael."

"Can’t. Too busy watching over my world," he replied, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down her spine.

As the hours ticked by, the love tension built like a slow-burning fire—glances stolen in the dark, breaths syncing unconsciously, the pull between them undeniable yet unacted upon. Eliana felt it in her chest, a yearning to reach out, but she held back, protecting her heart. Rafael, for his part, respected the space, content to be near, his presence a silent promise. By dawn’s first light, as she finally drifted off, she couldn’t deny the spark of hope igniting within her. Maybe, just maybe, this stubborn man was capable of changing.

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