The penthouse door clicked shut with a heavy, final thud, sealing them both inside the dimly lit hallway. Eleanor pressed her back flat against the cool, polished wood, her pulse fluttering erratically against her ribs. Cruz stood mere inches away, his commanding presence shrinking the space until the air between them felt impossibly thin. The faint, refined scent of cedarwood and a trace of whiskey drifted from him, clouding what little composure she had left. "You shouldn't be doing this," Eleanor whispered. Her hand hovered in the air between them, her fingers trembling before gently coming to rest against the lapel of his jacket. She knew the line they were about to cross. He was Cruz—the formidable, untouchable older brother of her best friend, Jaye. "Then tell me to walk away," Cruz murmured, his voice a low, dark velvet that resonated in the quiet corridor. He didn't back down. Instead, he stepped closer, resting one hand against the door beside her head, effectively caging her in. When his gaze fell to her lips, the intensity in his blue eyes was almost unbearable. He leaned down, his warm breath grazing the side of her neck, so close yet not quite touching, sending a sudden tremor through her entire body. Eleanor knew she was playing with fire. But years of living under her mother's suffocating control—her future dictated, her fiancé prearranged—had left her hollow. Tonight, fueled by a reckless spark of rebellion and the haze of alcohol, she didn't want to be the dutiful daughter anymore. Looking up into the dark warmth of his eyes, her resolve finally fractured. "Don't," she breathed softly. Then, lifting her chin, she whispered the surrender: "Don't stop." A quiet, dangerous satisfaction crossed Cruz's expression. Without another word, he cupped her cheek and captured her mouth. The kiss was deep, possessive, and all-consuming—sweeping away the last fragments of her hesitation into the shadows of the night. When Eleanor finally opened her eyes, the room was bathed in pale morning light. She lay still for a long moment, disoriented by the sheer quiet of the space and the cool luxury of silk sheets beneath her fingertips. Then, like a sudden downpour, the memories of the night came crashing back—the locked door, the desperate whispers in the dark, and the utter, reckless surrender that had followed. A knot of pure panic tightened in her chest. Dear God... what have I done? Turning her head slowly, she saw Cruz beside her, sound asleep. In the quiet dawn, the sharp, ruthless edge he carried in the waking world had softened, his dark hair tousled against the pillow. A wave of overwhelming guilt washed over her. She had crossed an unforgivable boundary with Jaye’s brother. If anyone ever found out, the fallout would destroy everything. She had to disappear before he opened his eyes. Moving with painstaking care, Eleanor eased back the covers and slipped out of bed, her bare feet meeting the plush carpet without a sound. Beside her, Cruz shifted slightly, his brow furrowing as if sensing the sudden absence of warmth. A low, sleep-thick murmur escaped him into the pillow: "Ellie... stay..." Eleanor froze, her heart leaping into her throat. She held her breath until his rhythmic breathing resumed. Trembling, she quickly gathered her black slip dress from where it had fallen near the armchair, stepped into it, and pulled up the zipper. Clutching her handbag and holding her high heels in one hand, she cast one last, conflicted look at the sleeping silhouette on the bed. Without letting herself hesitate another second, she turned the handle, hurried soundlessly across the vast living room, and slipped into the private elevator.

Cruz rarely rose later than seven in the morning. Whether in business or his personal life, he strictly adhered to his own code of conduct, prioritizing order and control above all else. Yet, when he woke this morning, the sun was already high in the sky. The space beside him was empty. He reached out, his knuckles brushing against the rumpled silk sheets. He opened his eyes, adjusting to the brilliant light pouring through the window. Sunlight fell directly onto a heap of clothes scattered across the floor—his tie, a crumpled shirt. They were the remnants of the wild passion they had shared the night before. He stretched slowly, feeling an unfamiliar ache in his shoulders and lower back. As he moved, his hand grazed his ribs, where he felt a faint, pale scratch mark. He traced the mark gently with his thumb, and memories of the previous night came flooding back vividly. Eleanor. She had always been Jaye’s quiet, well-behaved best friend. But last night, clad in a black spaghetti-strap slip dress with her cheeks flushed from a light buzz, she had looked breathtakingly beautiful. She had stumbled in the hallway, and he had caught her just in time. Her soft breasts pressed against his chest; that sudden physical contact instantly ignited an uncontrollable fire of desire. She looked up, her moist, captivating brown eyes gazing into his, causing his self-control to crumble completely. A faint, satisfied smile played on his lips. He threw back the covers and swung his legs out of bed. As he walked toward the bathroom, his bare feet brushed against a small, hard object on the carpet. Frowning, Cruz crouched down. It was an exquisite diamond ring set in vintage-style platinum. He picked it up, turning it gently between his fingertips. She must have left in such a rush that she’d forgotten her jewelry. He gripped it tightly, the cool metal touching his skin. A faint smile played on his lips; he had been wondering how to get in touch with her again, and now she had given him the perfect excuse. Before he could examine it closely, the door to the penthouse swung open. "Cruz! Time to get up!" His sister, Jay, strode into the living area. Cruz walked out, pulling on a pair of dark sweatpants, and leaned casually against the kitchen counter. "I'm up. What are you doing here so early?" "I'm looking for Ellie," Jay said, frowning. "Did you see her leave?" Cruz kept his expression neutral, betraying nothing. "No. Why?" "She wasn't feeling well last night, so I put her up in the guest room near yours. I just went to check on her and found the bed hadn't even been slept in. She’s completely vanished." Cruz shoved his hands into his pockets, his thumb rubbing against the cold metal ring. He didn't want to tell Jay the truth. His sister couldn't keep a secret to save her life; if he told her, the whole family would know by noon. He wasn't ready for that yet. "She probably just got up early and went home," Cruz lied without missing a beat. "She looked pretty worn out last night." "I'm really worried about her. Let me know if you hear anything? I'll send her another text," Jay said with a sigh. "I'll keep an eye out," Cruz replied smoothly. He watched his sister leave, his fingertips still resting on the ring in his pocket. Eleanor. Kanai.

On the other side, Eleanor, who was already in an Uber heading back to her apartment, was not nearly so cheerful. She stared gloomily out the window, recalling that the previous night had seemed like a vague dream. As soon as Eleanor closed her front door, she leaned back against the wood and let out a long breath, her body trembling slightly. She kicked off her high heels, slipped out of her cocktail dress, and stepped into the cramped bathroom, turning the shower handle to hot. Standing under the spray, she scrubbed her skin vigorously, trying to wash away the day's exhaustion. However, as steam fogged up the mirror, she wiped it away and caught a glimpse of her reflection. Faint red marks dotted her collarbone and neck. A wave of intense, burning embarrassment rushed to her cheeks. Recalling the heat of his breath against her skin and the feel of his commanding hands made her toes curl even now. The moment itself had been exquisite, but the aftermath left her feeling overwhelmed. Suddenly, a thought flashed through her mind, and her eyes widened. *Wait... did we use a condom?* She racked her brain, replaying their frenzied encounter by the door and the moments that followed on the bed. *No.* There hadn't been a single pause. Panic surged within her. She hurriedly turned off the water, wrapped herself in a towel, and walked into the bedroom. *That pill... I need to take the morning-after pill right now.* Just then, her phone buzzed on the nightstand. The screen lit up: a message from JAYE-BFF. JAYE-BFF: Ellie, where are you? I'm worried! Call me back! Eleanor stared at the screen, a deep sense of awkwardness rising in her chest. There was no way she could tell Jaye that she’d slept with her brother. It was just too mortifying. She sat on the edge of the bed and quickly typed a reply: "Oh, I’m so sorry! I woke up with a splitting headache, so I left in a rush—didn't want to wake anyone up. I’m resting in bed now. Let’s chat later? Bye." Jay immediately sent back a string of concerned emojis, urging her to get some rest. Eleanor tossed her phone aside, walked over to the full-length mirror, and touched the red marks on her neck. She had to stay home today. She couldn't let anyone see those marks—especially her mother, that uninvited guest who always loved to drop by without warning. Just as she was pulling a high-necked hoodie over her damp hair, her phone chimed again. It was a text from Naomi Price, the stern Marketing Director at the Estes Group. "Eleanor, the VP just pushed the Q3 forecast meeting to tomorrow morning. I need the finalized copies of those reports on my desk by 2:00 PM today. No exceptions. See you at the office." Eleanor stared at the screen, her heart sinking. As a junior analyst, she had no choice but to comply. She sighed and changed into a pair of professional trousers and a silk blouse that covered her neck. Her plan was to stop at the pharmacy for medication, quickly print the reports at the office, and then head straight home—pretending last night had never happened.