CHAPTER 20
Maya fumbled with her bag as the office lights dimmed to their night setting. She was exhausted—not from the work itself, but from how aware she'd been of every inch between her and Richard all afternoon. She hadn't embarrassed herself again, thankfully, but the tension that lingered between them felt like something unspoken.
"I'll be leaving now, sir," she said, pausing at the office door.
Richard didn't look up from the document in his hand. "I'm headed out as well. I'll drop you."
Maya hesitated. "Oh, that's alright. I can—"
"There's a tea shop near your building," he added flatly. "I'll stop there."
She blinked. Right. Of course. He wasn't offering because of her. He had a reason.
"Okay," she mumbled, lowering her gaze. "Thank you."
They rode the elevator in silence. Richard didn't look at her once, but she could feel him thinking. Observing. It wasn't warmth. It was something else—clinical, sharp.
Outside, the air had turned crisp, and the sky was bruised with gray. The drive was silent, the low hum of the car engine the only sound. Maya sat rigid, hands clasped in her lap, eyes on the blurred streetlights beyond the window.
"You've worked closely with me today," Richard said suddenly.
She startled a little. "Yes, sir."
"No unusual symptoms?"
Maya glanced at him, confused. "Symptoms?"
He kept his eyes on the road. "Fatigue. Chills. Dizziness."
She blinked. "Um... no? I mean, I get tired sometimes, but that's just from adjusting to everything. It's been a busy day."
"No cold spells? No sudden headaches?"
"...No, sir."
"Noted."
His voice held no emotion. Just a tick on a checklist. Maya thought that Mr. steel was concerned that he might have overworked her, although he showed it in his own way by dropping her off, she really didn't think he drank tea. Maya smiled a little but said nothing more.
They pulled up in front of the quiet tea shop, the windows glowing gold against the dusk. Richard stopped the car and unbuckled his seatbelt.
"I'll get what I need. Wait here."
Maya nodded, more confused than before. She watched him disappear inside, moving like a shadow through the glass reflections. He wasn't like anyone she'd ever known—distant, unreadable, and yet strangely attentive in the smallest ways.
He returned with two paper cups, handing one to her without a word.
"I didn't—"
"It's been a long day," he said simply.
She took it. "Thank you... sir."
He resumed the drive without explaining further, turning down her street with practiced ease.
Once they reached her apartment building, he didn't cut the engine. Instead, he looked out the windshield, silent again.
"I can get out here," she said softly, feeling awkward with the tea still warm in her hands.
Richard didn't answer right away. Finally, he said, "Get some rest Maya."
Maya blinked. "Yes sir."
He looked at her now, his gaze direct but unreadable.
She managed a shaky smile. "You too sir."
He nodded. "Go inside. Don't spill that tea."
Her cheeks heated, he must think she was a complete clumsy mess, Maya thought to herself.
"Goodnight, sir." she said nervously.
She stepped out of the car, clutching the cup awkwardly, and hurried toward the building.
From the car, Richard watched her. The cup was steaming. The tea was warm. She had touched him—brushed against him all day. Her skin hadn't gone cold; her lips hadn't blued. She was clumsy, yes. Anxious, certainly. But unaffected.
This had never happened before.
Was she really stronger than the effects of his true nature?
or had he not spent enough time close to her.
It wasn't that he wanted to put her in danger but the idea that someone could be immune to him almost made him feel different, he just had to find out.
With that thought, Richard drove off with confusion lingering in his mind.
_____
The night wrapped around the city like a velvet curtain, cool and endless. Richard sat alone in the top-floor hotel suite, a cup of untouched tea cooling by his side. The lights were dimmed, the only glow coming from the soft flicker of the fireplace. It cast long shadows across the room, but his mind wasn't in the present. It was on her.
Maya.
She had been in his office all day, shoulder brushing his, hand grazing his, skin near his. No change. No illness. Not even the faintest tremble of cold.
He had listed the symptoms in his mind like a litany—pallor, shivering, nausea, migraines. Mortals always succumbed to some form of discomfort after prolonged proximity. His presence poisoned them slowly. Not by touch alone, but by closeness. Emotional or physical.
But Maya... she was still light.
Still warm.
Still clumsy.
Still human.
His fingers flexed on the armrest. He needed time. Space. But also... proximity. He had to be certain.
He stood and reached for his phone. A business trip had been long overdue. The winter client summit in the mountains—one he normally sent junior executives to.
This time, he would go.
And he would take her with him.
____
Two days later, the snowy slopes of a private mountain lodge framed the sky. A soft storm was whispering in the trees, dusting the world in white. Maya clutched her coat tighter as she stepped out of the sleek black SUV, staring up at the massive wood-and-glass lodge that looked like something from a dream.
"This is for a business trip?" she whispered.
"Client hospitality," Richard said shortly, stepping out beside her.
She fumbled for something to say, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Right. Of course. I guess that means we'll be... entertaining."
"Minimal interaction," he said. "The storm pushed most flights back. It will be quiet."
She nodded, eyes wide as she looked at the snow piling on the railing. It was colder here, the air thinner. Yet it felt oddly peaceful.
Richard watched her carefully. She wasn't shivering. Not more than any normal person. Still no sickness. Still no change.
They stepped inside. The lodge smelled of cedarwood and old stone. A fire burned in the hearth and Maya exhaled with something like wonder.
"You'll take the room down the hall," Richard said. "Meet me in the lounge in an hour. We have some reports to prepare."
"Yes, sir."
She disappeared into her room, and Richard stood still for a long moment before turning toward his own.
By late evening, the sky outside had turned storm dark. The windows trembled with gusts of wind. Maya sat on the leather couch, papers in her lap, trying her best to focus.
Richard sat across from her in a high-backed chair, legs crossed, gaze unreadable.
He had barely spoken since they'd arrived. Yet every time she looked up, she found him studying the reports in his hand, intently, he looked so serious, she couldn't help but notice the way night sky made him appear so masculine.
She tried to ignore the flutter in her chest.
"You're not used to snow, are you?" he said finally.
She blinked, looking away immediately. "Not really. I mean, we don't get much where I'm from."
"And yet you don't look cold."
She blinked. "I mean, it is cold. But it's not bad, I wish I could go for a walk, the night sky looks so beautiful." Maya said without thinking then her hands flew to her mouth in absolute shock.
Now she had really done it.
Richard tilted his head slightly, filing the answer away like a clue. Still normal color in her cheeks. No breathlessness. No decline. Nothing.
He stood abruptly. "Come."
She blinked up at him. "Sir?"
"The slopes are empty. We'll walk."
"It's dark." She said trying to save herself from her unprofessionalism.
"So is most of the world. You'll manage." Richard said and with that, they walked towards the door and stepped outside.
The air was sharp as they stepped outside, the snow crunching beneath their boots. Maya tried to keep up with his longer strides, wrapping her scarf tighter.
They walked in silence for a while, past pine trees heavy with snow, under a sky swirling with pale wind. Maya stumbled on a dip in the trail and reached out instinctively.
Her hand caught his arm.
He stilled.
So did she.
Their eyes met.
"Sorry," she said quickly, pulling back. "I—"
He didn't move. His sleeve where she touched him still held warmth.
And he felt... nothing.
No sickness. No drain.
Only the imprint of her fingers.
He looked at her then, longer than before. The curve of her brow. The worry in her eyes. The small puff of breath that escaped her lips like a cloud.
Maya averted her gaze quickly, heart thumping. She didn't know what she expected. He was always composed. Silent. Terrifying, in a way. But tonight, there was something almost human in his silence.
"You're different," he said quietly, as if he was declaring it to himself.
She looked up, shocked. "Sir?"
He said nothing else. Only turned back to the path and kept walking, his footsteps deliberate.
And Maya followed, cheeks burning and her heart louder than the wind.
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