The leather of the cardholder was warm now, damp from my palm. I didn't take my hand away. Couldn't. Like letting go meant the whole thing evaporated—the dress, the dinner, the version of me that packed it at 3 AM standing in my underwear telling myself I was being practical.
Adrian watched. The silence wasn't empty. It was waiting.
"Tomorrow night," I said. My voice came out thinner than I wanted. "The dinner."
He didn't nod. Didn't speak. Just let the space between us do the work, the same way he'd done all evening—letting me fill it with my own unraveling.
"You said to wear the dress." My fingers tightened on the leather. "Without apologizing."
"I did."
I thought of the black silk in my bag. The way it felt when I'd held it up in my apartment—the plunge of the neckline, the slit that ran to mid-thigh. I'd bought it six months ago for a deposition I never took. It had hung in my closet like a dare I kept not answering.
And then I'd packed it. Before meeting him. Before knowing what he looked like when he said my name.
"You were right." The words scraped coming out. "I did pack it before we met. And I told myself it was for confidence. For armor."
Adrian's thumb moved across his signet ring—slow, deliberate. Not a tell. A permission. Keep going.
I pulled my hand off the cardholder. Let it fall to my lap. The truth sat in my stomach like something solid, something I'd swallowed without meaning to.
"It wasn't for armor." My chin lifted. I didn't plan it—it just happened, like the rest of me was done waiting for permission. "I want you to see me in it. The dress. I want you to be the first."
His eyes went dark. Not wider, not harder—just darker, like the gray had depth I hadn't seen before. He didn't speak for a long moment. Didn't move. And then he turned his ring once, the silver catching the lamplight.
"Clara." My name in his mouth, slow and careful, like he was tasting it for the first time. "That's the first honest thing you've said to me."
Adrian rose. The leather of his chair exhaled, and the sound was so quiet I almost missed it—but I didn't. I was tracking every inch of him now, the way he unfolded from the chair like he had all the time in the world, the way his shoulders settled as he stood.
He didn't look at me as he crossed.
That was worse. If he'd held my gaze, I could have braced. Instead he moved past the edge of the desk, his steps unhurried on the hardwood, and I felt him arrive beside my chair before I saw him stop. The heat of his body reached me first—a wall of warmth I hadn't realized the room was missing.
I didn't turn my head. My hands stayed in my lap, fingers locked together. I could feel the pulse at my throat, the one he'd seen earlier, the one I couldn't hide.
"Look at me." Not a request.
I turned. He stood above me, close enough that I could see the silver threading his black hair at the temples, the faint shadow along his jaw. His gray eyes found mine and held. I swallowed.
"You told me you want me to see you in it." His voice was low, unhurried, the same patience he used for everything. "Do you understand what that means?"
I opened my mouth. Closed it. The answer sat in my chest, heavy and warm, and I couldn't seem to get it past my teeth.
He waited.
"Yes," I said finally. The word came out rough, like I'd been holding it too long.
Adrian's hand rose. Slowly. Deliberately. I didn't flinch—couldn't, wouldn't—and his fingers found the collar of my blazer. He tugged, just enough to shift the fabric, and the black strap of the dress slipped into view against my collarbone. His thumb brushed it once, feather-light, and then his hand fell away.
"Good." The word was softer than before. Almost a whisper. "Tomorrow night, I'll see you in it. But tonight—" He stepped back, and the air rushed into the space where his body had been. "—tonight, I wanted to hear you say it."
He turned, walked back to his chair, and sat. The leather creaked as he settled. He picked up a pen, uncapped it, and looked down at a document on his desk.
I sat there, my pulse still loud in my ears, the ghost of his thumb warm on my skin.