Chapter 5 Ghosts That Walk In

Amara stayed late.

The building emptied one floor at a time, the buzz of voices and clicking keyboards fading into a silence that felt heavy, almost sacred. Outside, the city sparkled through floor-to-ceiling windows, the skyline jagged and endless. New York looked beautiful from up here-far enough away that you could almost pretend the shadows didn't exist.

She didn't hear Lucien approach. She just felt him.

"You don't have to keep working to prove a point," he said, voice quieter than usual.

She didn't turn. "I'm not proving anything. There's just... a lot to do."

He was beside her now. She could see his reflection in the glass. Shirt sleeves rolled. Tie gone. Something in his face softer than she'd seen before. Still guarded, yes. But less like a fortress. More like a man who had once known how to rest.

"You're efficient," he said.

"And you're surprised."

"No," he said simply. "Just impressed."

That made her glance at him.

He met her gaze, not smiling, but not challenging either. Just looking. And for once, there wasn't tension between them-only quiet.

A strange, breathless quiet.

She broke it first. "Is Elira your ex?"

He didn't blink. "Yes."

Amara raised a brow. "That wasn't the answer I expected."

"I don't lie," he said. "I just don't volunteer what's not asked."

She looked back out the window. "She's still in love with you."

Lucien said nothing at first. Then: "Probably. But love built on power is just a contract with prettier words."

That landed heavier than she expected. He moved to stand beside her, shoulder to shoulder now.

"You speak like someone who's lost faith in the concept," she said.

"I speak like someone who's seen it bought and sold."

She paused, hands resting on the edge of the glass. "My father used to say something like that."

Lucien stiffened almost imperceptibly. "Let me guess. Dominic Blake didn't believe in love either?"

"He believed in leverage. In loyalty bought with guilt and debt." Her voice had cooled, drifting somewhere between resentment and pain. "He made love a transaction. And then accused everyone else of betrayal when it broke."

Lucien didn't speak.

She didn't expect him to.

That was the thing about silence between them-it never felt empty.

"I found out he was arrested from a phone call," she said after a while. "I was in the middle of my second semester. Columbia Law. Someone I didn't know called me and said, 'Your dad just got picked up by the feds.'" She let out a bitter laugh. "I thought it was a prank."

"You never visited him?" Lucien asked, watching her carefully.

"No. I changed my name. I left everything behind."

"And came here. To hide."

She met his gaze again, this time with defiance. "To survive."

Their eyes locked for a beat too long.

Then Lucien said, "I should've hated you."

"I know."

"I still might."

Her lips parted, but nothing came out.

He stepped closer-too close again-and yet she didn't move. Couldn't. His voice dropped just above a whisper.

"But every time you talk, I forget why I wanted to."

She swallowed. "That's dangerous."

Lucien smiled faintly. "I'm used to danger."

Amara didn't know what made her do it-boredom, pride, adrenaline-but her next words came out before she could stop them.

"Maybe you don't scare me as much as you think."

Lucien didn't reply.

He just studied her-like a man at the edge of something he knew he shouldn't want, but couldn't resist.

Then he stepped back.

The moment snapped.

"Go home, Miss Blake," he said. The cold tone was back. "That's an order."

She gathered her things slowly. At the door, she turned one last time.

"You don't scare me, Mr. Vale," she said.

He didn't answer.

But the flicker in his eyes said he heard her.

And that maybe, just maybe...

He believed her.