Chapter 84: Confrontation 2

Now they stood close enough to erase the air between them.

Close enough that the city noise behind them—the traffic grinding past, bass thudding faintly from a passing car, the hiss of buses kneeling at the curb—felt distant.

Close enough that she could feel the heat of him through the thin space separating their bodies. Not touching.

“Be careful, Larissa,” he said.

His voice wasn’t sharp. It didn’t need to be. It was low, even. The kind of control that comes from a man who rarely raises it.

She tipped her chin up. Sunlight caught the edge of her cheekbone, the gloss on her mouth.

“Why?”

A slow breath moved through him. Measured. Deliberate.

He stood there for a moment, just looking at her.

“Because indifference,” he said, leaning just slightly closer, his voice dropping like a secret shared over rooftop drinks at midnight, “is more provoking than jealousy.”

Her pulse skipped.

Just once.

Her eyes turned green as her pupils constricted. Then she blinked, and they were back to light brown.

But he saw it. Of course he did. A man like that didn’t miss micro-reactions. Didn’t miss anything.

“And I don’t pursue things that don’t matter,” he added.

There it was. The confession he would never frame as one. No declarations. No vulnerability laid bare. Just implication—clean and sharp as a tailored suit.

Lara held his gaze, unblinking.

Around them, the city kept moving. A delivery bike cut through traffic. Someone laughed too loudly across the street. A siren wailed as an ambulance entered the hospital’s drop-off, then faded.

But inside that small orbit of space, everything was still.

“I’m glad,” she said softly. ’I suppose I don’t matter.Your first love is back now.’

Not coy. Not flustered, just certain.

That was what unsettled him.

Something shifted behind his eyes—quick and unguarded. Not anger. Not wounded pride.

Disruption.

She stepped to the side, the scent of her perfume brushing past him—something subtle, impossible to forget.

He didn’t block her path. Didn’t touch her.

But as she passed, his hand lifted—almost unconsciously. Almost claiming. Almost closing around the curve of her wrist.

He stopped himself. Lowered it.

He took a long breath before regaining control.

Behind him, the side glass doors of the restaurant slid open, spilling polished light onto the corridor.

Lara stepped inside.

The doors began to close.

She turned.

Their eyes locked through the narrowing space.

It wasn’t romantic. It was strategic.

And just before the glass sealed them into separate worlds—

Ares spoke.

So low the city couldn’t steal it.

“You thought wrongly.”

The doors slid shut.

The lobby swallowed the street noise.

Lara stood alone with her reflection in the glass doors.

Her pulse was steady now.

But the question wasn’t.

Wrong about what?

…

The next morning, Lara arrived at the dining hall earlier than usual.

Shay wasn’t around yet. Clara, who was already back, was helping her bathe.

Ares entered the dining room.

He was already dressed for work. Dark suit that perfectly matched his powerful figure.

“Good morning, Ares,” Lara greeted politely.

Ares frowned. He could sense the estrangement in her voice.

A maid poured him his coffee.

Black and without sugar.

“From now on,” he said casually, “free up Shay’s schedule every Friday afternoon.”

Lara looked up.

“Why is that?”

“Doctor Chavez sent word that Shay still needed four therapy sessions. I will accompany her on those days.”

It sounded reasonable and responsible.

But Lara had understood. It must be because Ares wanted to spend time with Scarlet.

Shay entered the dining room, followed by Clara.

She looked between them, sensing something she didn’t understand.

Ares took a slow sip of coffee. “I’d like to be more present in Shay’s life.”

The words were simple. The implication wasn’t.

After watching the session with Doctor Chaves, Ares wanted to spend more time bonding with Shay.

He wanted to be more present in his daughter’s life, in the household, and in her space.

“I see,” Lara said calmly.

“Good.”

He set the cup down.

“I will also work from home, Friday mornings until the session is over.”

Lara watched him across the table from lowered lashes.

That was new. Ares Zuvel did not work from home.

He commanded corporations.

Governed decisions that moved markets.

He did not sit in living rooms. But now—he would!

Shay beamed.

“Really, Daddy?”

“Yes.”

His eyes flicked briefly to Lara.

“Really.”

Shay finished her breakfast in a good mood. She would be with her daddy more often. Her favorite nanny was also back.

…

Later that afternoon, Lara discovered something else.

The study beside Shay’s room had been renovated overnight.

When she stepped inside, Ares was already there, reviewing documents.

Without looking up, he said—

“This room will be used for Shay’s evening sessions.”

Silence stretched.

“It’s adjacent to my room,” he added.

Lara placed Shay’s workbook on the desk.

“You’re restructuring the household.”

“Yes.”

“For Shay?”

His pen paused mid-signature.

“Yes. Doctor’s advice. It will help her recover from the traumatic experience faster.”

The word lingered.

Lara met his gaze. “I understand.”

His eyes held hers.

He stepped closer. Not enough to trap her, but enough to feel intentional.

Lara stepped back.

“You said you weren’t interested,” he reminded her.

“I’m not.”

“Then my presence shouldn’t matter.”

“It doesn’t.”

A pause.

His eyes searched her face, looking for a fracture.

For heat. For anything.

“Good,” he said softly.

And then—

He reached past her. His hand brushed her wrist. It was light and accidental.

Except it wasn’t.

He picked up a file from the console table behind her. Their skin had touched for less than a second. But the contact lingered.

Intentional testing.

He watched her carefully. Her breathing remained steady. Her expression remained composed.

But he saw it.

The smallest tightening of her fingers. She wasn’t indifferent. She was disciplined.

That realization did something dangerous inside him.

“Be careful, Larissa,” he said quietly.

She met his gaze.

“You’ve said that before.”

“Yes,” Ares replied nonchalantly. “And you’re still wrong.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly.

“About what?”

He stepped back, reclaiming space.

“About me not pursuing what matters.”

And this time, he still didn’t clarify. He walked away, leaving her alone in the room.

With the unsettling realization that—

Ares Zuvel was not reacting anymore.

He was advancing. Slowly. Dangerously.

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