He didn’t wait to see if I would follow him.

He already knew I would.

I stepped inside his office, feeling the familiar chill of the air conditioning bite against my skin, but it wasn’t the temperature that made me shiver. Nicholas closed the door with more force than necessary. It wasn’t a slam, not quite — but it was definite. Final.

He didn’t move to his desk. Instead, he stayed standing, arms crossed, jaw tight, every line of his body tense with something he wasn’t ready to say out loud.

“What were you doing?” he asked finally, his voice low and steady, but his eyes burning too hot for the calmness to be real.

I blinked, thrown by the question. “I was walking to the copy room,” I said.

“With him?”

The way he said him — like Daniel’s existence was a personal insult — scraped across my nerves.

“He stopped me,” I said, keeping my voice even.

Nicholas’s brow lifted, but there was no curiosity in it. “You didn’t look like you were in a hurry to leave.”

I stared at him, heart hammering faster than I could control. “Are you seriously accusing me of something?”

“I’m asking,” he said, each word clipped and too controlled, like he was holding himself back from saying more. “Why you didn’t shut it down.”

“I did,” I said, voice rising despite myself.

He exhaled, not a sigh, not an apology. Just a sound of frustration vibrating low in his chest. “Not fast enough.”

Something inside me snapped at that.

“You think this is about speed?” I shot back. “I’ve been dodging him for weeks. Every time he shows up here, every time he corners me in a hallway, I pretend I’m not furious, not sick, not—”

I bit the last word off like it hurt to finish it. Because it did. Because if I said too much, I’d say everything.

Nicholas took a step forward, crossing the distance like it was nothing.

“I see him around you,” he said, voice quieter but sharper, “and I want to tear his hands off.”

My breath caught hard in my throat.

“And I don’t even know if I’m allowed to feel that way,” he finished, the admission tearing free like it cost him something real.

I blinked, stunned. All the anger burned out of me for a second, replaced by something much more dangerous.

“You think I let him talk to me?” I asked, the words trembling not with rage but with hurt. “You think I want this chaos? You think I wanted any of it?”

“I think,” Nicholas said, his voice roughening even more, “you’re keeping something from me.”

My heart slammed against my ribs so hard it almost hurt.

He wasn’t wrong.

But he wasn’t right for the reasons he thought, either.

I wanted to tell him. God, I wanted to tell him. But the truth wasn’t small. It wasn’t a detail we could sweep under the rug. And once it was spoken, nothing between us would ever be simple again.

“Don’t do that,” I said, forcing the words out before I could lose my nerve.

“Do what?” His voice was quiet, but edged.

“Turn this into something I have to explain just to make you feel better.”

His jaw clenched. His whole posture went rigid.

“You’re not mine,” he said finally, the words sounding like they scraped his throat raw. “I don’t have any right to ask. But I still want to know why the hell it looked like you wanted him to stay.”

I pressed my hands flat against my sides to keep them from shaking.

“I didn’t,” I said, my voice too soft, too raw.

“Then tell me the truth,” he said, almost gentle now. Almost.

I opened my mouth and nothing came out. I wasn’t ready. Not when I had no idea what pieces would be left.

“I have to go back to work,” I said finally, my voice cracking at the edges.

I turned toward the door, fingers already curling around the handle.

“Elena,” Nicholas said behind me, and the way he said it made my spine lock straight.

I paused.

I didn’t turn around.

“When you’re ready to tell me whatever this is,” he said, voice steady but thick with something almost painful, “don’t wait too long.”

I nodded and walked out before my heart could betray me.