Sleep came in fragments that night-thin, unsatisfying slivers broken by the same image replaying itself again and again. His eyes. The way they held hers across a crowded room, steady and unflinching. The low timbre of his voice when he said her name, like it meant more than it should have.

Some things are too loud to hide.

The words echoed long after the gala lights dimmed.

By morning, Lina was exhausted and irritable, standing in front of her bathroom mirror with a toothbrush halfway to her mouth, staring at her own reflection like it might confess something she hadn't yet admitted to herself.

"This is ridiculous," she muttered.

She barely knew the man.

Yet her chest tightened as she remembered the way he'd looked at her-not like a man admiring beauty, but like someone recognizing something familiar. Something dangerous.

She finished getting ready and left her apartment before she could spiral further. Lagos greeted her with its usual chaos-honking horns, vendors shouting, the sun already warm against her skin. The city had always grounded her. Its noise reminded her that life moved forward whether her heart cooperated or not.

Today was important.

She arrived at Harrington House just before nine, clipboard tucked under her arm, professional mask firmly in place. The restoration site buzzed with activity-architects, historians, construction workers moving with purposeful urgency. Lina breathed easier the moment she stepped inside the historic structure. Old buildings spoke to her in ways people rarely did. Their cracks told stories. Their scars were honest.

"Morning, Lina," one of the site managers greeted.

"Good morning," she replied with a smile. "Any updates?"

"Structural survey came in. Mostly good news."

She nodded, already scanning documents, slipping comfortably into her role. For the next few hours, she lost herself in measurements, plans, and problem-solving. It was blissful-until it wasn't.

"Ms. Adeyemi."

The voice behind her was calm. Familiar.

Her heart betrayed her immediately, skipping so hard it hurt.

She turned slowly.

Kai stood a few feet away, dressed far more casually than the night before-dark trousers, a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, exposing forearms dusted with faint scars. He looked less untouchable in daylight, but no less dangerous.

If anything, he felt more real.

"You," she said before she could stop herself.

A flicker of amusement crossed his face. "Good morning to you too."

"What are you doing here?" she asked, glancing around, suddenly hyper-aware of the workers nearby.

"Working," he replied simply.

Her brow furrowed. "You said you were involved 'in a way.'"

"And I was being honest."

She folded her arms. "Care to be clearer now?"

He hesitated, eyes drifting briefly to the people around them. "Perhaps somewhere more private?"

She should have said no.

Instead, she nodded.

They moved toward a quieter wing of the building, their footsteps echoing softly against stone floors that had existed long before either of them. Lina felt strangely exposed walking beside him, as though the walls themselves were listening.

"You own this place," she said suddenly, the realization clicking into place.

He stopped.

Slowly, he turned to face her. "Yes."

The word settled heavily between them.

"Harrington House," she murmured. "You're that Harrington."

His jaw tightened. "I am."

Lina exhaled, processing. The Harrington name carried weight-old money, influence, expectations whispered behind polite smiles. It explained his presence at the gala. His discomfort. His carefulness.

"So you're my client," she said.

"In a sense."

She laughed softly, shaking her head. "This complicates things."

"That seems to be a pattern with us."

Her smile faded. "I need to maintain professionalism."

"So do I."

"Last night didn't feel very professional," she said quietly.

His gaze darkened. "No. It didn't."

Silence stretched between them, thick with unsaid things.

Kai broke it first. "I won't interfere with your work."

"That's not what I meant."

"What did you mean?"

She looked away. "I don't mix work and... whatever this is."

His voice softened. "Neither do I."

Yet neither of them moved.

Lina met his eyes again, frustration threading through her confusion. "Then why are you standing so close to me?"

"Because if I step back," he said honestly, "I might regret it."

Her breath caught.

"You don't even know me," she whispered.

"I know enough."

"Like what?"

"That you hide behind competence," he said. "That you feel things deeply but pretend you don't. That you don't trust easily."

Her pulse thundered. "You're projecting."

"Maybe," he allowed. "Or maybe I recognize myself."

That unsettled her more than she cared to admit.

She stepped back, putting distance between them. "We should focus on the project."

Kai nodded slowly. "Of course."

But his eyes said this isn't over.

Later that day, Lina sat in her office reviewing blueprints she'd already reviewed twice. Her phone buzzed on the desk.

Unknown Number:

You left your scarf.

Her heart lurched.

She stared at the screen, torn between annoyance and something far more dangerous-anticipation.

Lina:

I didn't realize.

Unknown Number:

It smells like you.

Heat crept up her neck.

Lina:

That's inappropriate.

A pause.

Then-

Kai:

You're right. I'm sorry.

She hadn't expected that. Her fingers hovered.

Lina:

You can leave it with security.

Another pause.

Kai:

I could. Or I could return it myself.

Her chest tightened.

She set the phone face down, refusing to answer.

But her mind was already elsewhere.

Kai watched the city from his office window, the phone still warm in his hand. He shouldn't have texted her. He knew that. He also knew restraint had never been his strongest skill-despite what people assumed.

His assistant knocked lightly. "Your father is on line one."

Of course he was.

Kai closed his eyes briefly before answering. "Yes?"

"You missed breakfast," his father said without preamble.

"I was busy."

"You're always busy when it suits you."

Kai stiffened. "What do you want?"

"A reminder," his father replied smoothly. "The engagement announcement is next month. Don't embarrass the family."

The word engagement felt like a fist to the chest.

"I won't," Kai said coolly.

"You'd better not," his father warned. "Your future depends on it."

The line went dead.

Kai stared at the phone, anger simmering beneath his calm exterior. A future already decided. A life built on obligation, not desire.

And then there was Lina.

Unplanned. Unacceptable. Unavoidable.

He picked up the scarf from his desk, the soft fabric looping through his fingers. It smelled faintly of jasmine and something uniquely hers.

Some loves announced themselves quietly.

This one had arrived like a warning siren.

That evening, Lina stood by her window again, city lights flickering below. Her phone buzzed once more.

Kai:

I'll see you tomorrow. Strictly professional.

She hesitated.

Then typed-

Lina:

Good.

She set the phone down, heart racing.

Because she knew the truth.

There was nothing professional about the way her name felt on his lips.

And whatever was unfolding between them was already too loud to hide.

Chapter 2 Echoes Don't Fade Quietly

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