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Twilight fell over the city in shades of lavender and rose as Liana settled into the passenger side of Alex's gleaming electric sedan. The adrenaline of the evening still coursed through her veins, a residual hum of the crisis they had just averted. Alex's hand rested close to the center console as he closed the door, his fitted suit jacket shifting against the leather of the seat. They simply regarded each other for a moment in easy silence.

Thanks for the ride," Liana said, fastening her seatbelt with measured composure. She sensed the shock of electricity as the car roared to life—more a machine's heartbeat.

Alex nodded, his eyes flicking up to meet hers in the muted glow of the dashboard. "Least I could do," he said, his tone softer than she'd ever heard him speak before. "After.all that stuff tonight.".

She smiled at him, surprised by the warmth of it. "We made a good team." The words burst out before she could censor them. The confession was intimate, a secret beneath the canopy of the car.

He kept his gaze on the road but glanced in her direction. "Yes," he said, tone measured but sincere. "You were brilliant." His compliment hung between them, charged.

Liana smiled, the sound thin and authentic. "And you were relentless." She stroked a fingertip along the leather door panel. "I've never seen anyone pin a CEO into a corner so fast."

His laughter was deep and amused, relaxing the set of his jaw. "I nearly respected you more for it," he mocked. There was something so disarmingly serene in that moment—two foes suddenly fast friends, the pretence of stiffness falling away to real friendship.

As they cruised out of the parking garage and into the city's vaulted streets, the soft pulse of the electric motor harmonized with their new rapport. Streetlights flashed by, etching temporary patterns across Liana's face. She looked over at him. "Do you ever get nostalgic for a simpler existence?" she joked half-seriously.

He thought about her question, one hand clutching the wheel. "I guess simplicity has its charm," he said. "But then I'd never have met you." The concession surprised her—so candid, so open.

Her heart pounded. "Well, fortunate for you we did meet at gunpoint, then," she replied with a tight smile, although her heart thundered in her chest.

He looked at her, a slow smile creeping onto his lips. "The best things often happen in the middle of chaos."

Liana swallowed. Their gazes held for a moment too long, and a heat flowered behind her stiff mask. She turned away first, following the receding buildings. "Here," she murmured as the car came to a stop in front of her townhouse. "This is me."

Alex pulled over onto the curb, shut off the engine, and turned in his seat to face her head-on. The streetlights sliced across his face, softening his features. Silence fell between them—no issue to resolve, no boardroom to dominate. Just the two of them, being suspended in a moment both tense and delicate.

She unbuckled, then faltered as Alex reached across the console. His hand hesitated, inches from sliding against hers. "Liana," he whispered, his voice low and rough. His breath tickled the thin space between them, and she felt the jolt of just how close they were.

He lowered his hand. With a breath, she settled it on her lap and had the audacity to meet his gaze. Tension hung between them like it was alive—an invitation and threat at the same time.

She hadn't had time to respond before headlights flashed on down the road. A cluster of flashbulb brightness exploded through the windshield, nails-down-chalkboard in their intensity. Liana's heart soared. Paparazzi.

Without hesitation, Alex leaned over and pulled down the sun visor, shielding her from the flashing lights. He shifted his body toward her, his arm across the top of her seat. Liana felt a raw shock of thanks and something more—an electric jolt that ran through her as his closeness and the instinctive consideration of his action collided in her chest.

The flashes kept coming in rapid succession, each boom sounding like distant shots. Alex's knuckles turned white on the rim of the visor. He crouched forward and breathed softly, "Stay low." His voice was a soft command, and something within Liana melted at the sound of his voice.

She leaned slightly, her curls against his shoulder. She looked at him through narrowed eyes—strong, intent, utterly in control. The paparazzi finally backed off, disappearing into the night, their shouts lost in the city's noise.

Alex leaned back, letting the visor fall. Neither of them stirred for a moment. Then Liana exhaled, the tension draining from her in a shuddering breath. "That was…intense," she whispered.

He tipped his head. “I couldn’t let them get to you.”

Heat surged in Liana’s cheeks. “Thank you,” she managed. Her voice trembled in a way she found both unsettling and exhilarating.

He offered her a slow, genuine smile—one unclouded by strategy or boardroom politics. “You’re worth protecting.”

Her heart was pounding. The words hung between them, naked and unprepared. She swallowed, words stuck behind a racing pulse. She began to open her mouth—shut it back up, hesitant.

Alex's eyes unclenched, and he leaned forward as if to fill the space between them. Their lips were a breath apart. Liana felt the warmth of his breath against her cheek, inhaled the slight burn of his cologne mixed with the car's mellow leather scent. Her heart was racing; she dared to look into his eyes.

But then, as though taken aback by his own boldness, Alex took a step back, his expression shifting. "I—" he began, his voice tight, then shook his head. "I should let you get in."

He released her hand, the fleeting heat gone. Liana exhaled a breath and moved back from the car, the night air chilling against her. Alex remained seated, looking at her, the streetlight shining on the slant of his jaw.

She gazed at him, smiled a small, wry smile. "Good night, Mr. Cole."

He rose to his feet and closed his door. For one beat, he stood under the streetlight, and then he lifted his hand in a fast, uncertain wave. "Good night, Ms. Coleman."

Liana watched him move away from her into the darkness of the street, lights flashing into the blackness. The street fell back to silence, a faint echo of the strained near-intimacy that had come so close.

In the house, Liana slowed on the door threshold, pounding heart like a drum. She lowered her hair tie and stepped out of heels, the soft boom of leather off tile rooting her. Piling up the stairs, she retraced in mind the minutes spent in the automobile—the tenderness in words spoken, the wrapping of her body by his fingers, the brush-kiss fluttering through close air between them.

That night, Leo sat on the kitchen counter with a cup of chamomile tea, nursing it. The house was still, but he hadn't slept, restless at what had happened that day. His gaze drifted to the front window, out of which the path he'd just watched Alex drive home still shone with streetlights.

He had witnessed—he couldn't help but notice—how Alex had looked after Liana. The braced position of his body on the paparazzi assault, the tender concern in his eyes. It unsettled him, this emerging bond. He cherished his daughter's safety and happiness more intensely than any consolidation. But Alex Cole—mysterious, enigmatic, dangerously attractive—was weaving himself into their lives faster than any scandal.

A groan came from the floorboard, and Leo looked up as Liana entered the kitchen doorway, embracing herself against a draft of chill air seeping through the hallway. Her cheeks retained a flush of color more than from mere excitement. She noticed her father's eyes and succeeded in a weak smile.

"Having trouble sleeping?" she asked, swinging onto a stool beside him.

Leo set down his mug and studied her. “Just processing.” He gestured at his empty cup. “Tea?”

She shook her head, hair brushing her shoulders. “I think I’ll head up.” She met his eyes, vulnerability flickering there. “Good night, Dad.”

He stayed, palms clutching the mug. "Good night, sweetheart." His voice was thick, protective. He watched her go up the stairs, each step measured. When she turned around the corner, Leo put out a hand and killed the monitor on his phone—Alex's last text: Safe home? He stared at the black screen, his chest tight.