Chapter 5 A Touch Too Close

Penthouse – 7:46 PM

Amara sat on the edge of the custom velvet couch in the lounge, files spread out in front of her, swatches of fabric and stone samples neatly arranged. She was determined to keep things professional-even if Sebastian had a talent for making that almost impossible.

Her laptop chimed.

She clicked.

Sebastian Cade: Meet me on the rooftop at 8. Wear something warm.

No explanation. No signature.

Just a command.

She blinked, lips parting. A rooftop meeting? At night?

Her fingers hovered over the keys.

Then, she shut the laptop.

Rooftop Terrace – 8:04 PM

It wasn't just a rooftop. It was a floating palace above the city.

A sleek fire pit in the center, soft jazz playing from hidden speakers, wine chilling in a silver bucket beside two lounge chairs. And there he was-Sebastian, hands in his pockets, staring out over the skyline like he ruled it.

Because, in many ways, he did.

"You're late," he said without turning.

"You didn't say this was urgent," she replied, stepping forward, arms crossed inside her oversized shawl.

He turned, and for a second, the firelight caught his features just right. He looked... softer. Human.

Vulnerable.

Then it passed.

"I wanted you to see this," he said, gesturing around them. "The world from up here. What it feels like to be untouchable."

She glanced at the view. "It's beautiful."

"It's a lie."

She frowned. "Then why build it?"

He stepped closer, eyes unreadable. "Because sometimes lies are the only thing keeping the truth from killing you."

Her heart stumbled in her chest. "That's... dramatic."

He let out a breath, half laugh, half sigh. "Everything about me is."

A pause stretched between them.

Then she said, "Why me, Sebastian? Out of every designer in this city-"

"I told you. I like independent minds."

"No," she cut in. "You knew my name. Before we met. Before I submitted the proposal. You knew me."

His jaw tightened. He looked away, lips pressing into a thin line.

"I've done my research," he said finally. "I don't leave anything to chance."

"That's not an answer."

He looked at her. "It's the only one you'll get for now."

Silence.

Then she asked, "Do you always treat people like chess pieces?"

"Only the ones who are dangerous," he said softly.

"And what am I?"

He didn't answer. Instead, he reached for the wine bottle, poured her a glass, then one for himself. He handed it to her carefully, fingers brushing hers.

She flinched.

The contact was brief-but electric. And in that second, she saw it again: the conflict in his eyes. The storm beneath the surface.

He was fighting something.

So was she.

Later That Night – Amara's Bedroom

She stared at the ceiling, fully dressed, fully alert.

That rooftop conversation kept playing in her head.

Dangerous. Chess pieces. Untouchable.

Why did it feel like she'd stepped into something far more complicated than a design contract?

And why did the warmth of his hand still linger on her skin?

She turned, eyes wide open in the dark.

This wasn't just business anymore.

She was in too deep-and she knew it.

Elsewhere - Sebastian's Private Vault Room

Sebastian poured himself another glass of scotch and pulled out the same folder.

Amara's father. Her childhood photos. The old headlines. Financial records. Ruined partnerships.

He stared at the face of the man who had once destroyed everything.

And then he looked at the daughter-beautiful, clever, too honest for her own good.

"Don't catch feelings," he told himself again.

But the damage had already started.

And the line between hate and hunger was blurring faster