Valeria's POV

Emilia's head was resting on my shoulder.

Her bare skin was warm against mine, her breath steady, her fingers lightly brushing over my arm in soft, absentminded patterns.

I should have pulled away.

I should have told her to get dressed, to move, to put some space between us before I forgot how to exist without her touch.

But I didn't. Because I liked this. Even if I didn't know what it meant.

I exhaled slowly, voice low, careful. "What are we doing?"

Emilia hummed, eyes still closed, like she was completely content. "I'm enjoying your company."

I scoffed, glancing down at her body before raising an eyebrow. "Shirtless?"

That got her attention. Her eyes snapped open-and then down.

The second she realized she was still only in a bra, her entire face turned red.

I felt a smirk threaten my lips.

She had spent the last hour flustering me, making me react, making me feel things I didn't understand.

And now?

Now it was her turn. She quickly started to move, muttering, "I should- I'll put something on."

I grabbed her wrist before she could go. "Princess."

Her eyes flicked back to mine.

And then-she smiled.

A slow, knowing smile, like she was waiting for me to say something else, like she knew I wasn't used to this-this softness, this playfulness.

She stood in front of me, watching me too closely.

And then-she pointed to my lap.

"May I?"

I barely nodded.

It wasn't that I wanted her to. It was that I couldn't say no. She settled onto my lap like she had done it a hundred times before.

Comfortable. Natural.

I was not comfortable. I was not natural at this. But I wanted to be, One day.

I felt my body tense beneath her, every muscle locking up, but she didn't seem to care. She just wrapped her arms around my neck, leaning in like she belonged there.

Like I was something safe. I wasn't.

But I didn't push her off.

Fuck.

I kept my hands on her waist, unsure if I should move, unsure if I should touch her more.

"You like doing that," I muttered, trying to act unaffected.

She smirked against my shoulder.

"You know, I used to hate it when you called me Princess."

I raised an eyebrow, grateful for the distraction. "Yeah?"

She nodded, leaning back just enough to look at me.

"Felt like you were mocking me."

She was right. I had been.

I used to say it to knock her down, to remind her that she didn't belong in my world.

But now-

"Now, I think I like it," she admitted.

I blinked, thrown off by that. "Why?"

Her smile softened.

"Because I don't think you mean it in the same way anymore."

I swallowed hard, staring at her, unsure what to say.

"It sounds like a term of endearment now."

I scoffed. "As if."

But we both knew she was right. She chuckled, giving me a look before slowly shifting off my lap. My body instantly missed the warmth of her.

"I'll go get dressed. I have work." She hesitated before adding, "You can come downstairs with me?"

She was asking. Not assuming. Not demanding.

I didn't want her to leave. I didn't want her to walk out that door, even if it was only for a few minutes.

So I nodded. She grinned, pleased, and turned to go. But before she could leave, I found myself asking the one thing I shouldn't.

"What is this?"

She turned back, confused. I cleared my throat, looking away, trying to keep my voice even.

"Us. Not us. I mean... what is happening?" I heard her shift, exhaling softly.

She wanted to tell me. I could feel it.

I could see it in her face, in her hesitation, in the way her fingers flexed at her sides like she wanted to reach for me but didn't. She could have said anything.

She could have put a label on this, could have said exactly what she wanted from me.

But instead-

She gave me asked. "What do you think we are?"

I stared at her. Because that was the problem. I didn't know. I knew I wanted her.

I knew I couldn't walk away from her. I knew every time she looked at me like this, I wanted to keep her eyes on me forever. But I also knew I could never ask her to be mine.

She was Emilia Hayes.

I was Valeria.

She was a name on billboards, in headlines, in magazines. I was a name whispered in back alleys, in police files, in criminal circles.

There was no way this could be real. So I shrugged.

Like I didn't care. Like I hadn't spent the last month being completely consumed by her.

She swallowed, nodding slowly-like she understood exactly what I wasn't saying. Like she was disappointed but pretending she wasn't.

"Then we don't name it," she said, forcing a smile. "We just go with it. It's okay."

It was not okay. But she thought she was giving me space.

She thought she was not pushing me. And maybe she wasn't.

But to me-

It felt like she had just confirmed my worst fear. That she would never really be mine.

And I could never ask her to be.

Emilia's POV

The camera felt heavier today. Maybe it was because I couldn't focus. Not when she was here.

Valeria sat on the worn-out couch in the corner of my studio, her posture relaxed, but her eyes-sharp, calculating, always watching.

I lifted the camera to my face, trying to drown myself in the work. The model posed in front of me, the lights casting perfect shadows, the angles textbook.

But my mind wasn't on the frame. It kept drifting back to her.

Her eyes.

The way they had softened when I rested my head on her shoulder earlier, the warmth of her breath when she whispered my name, the hesitation in her touch like she was terrified of breaking me-or herself.

I adjusted the lens, trying to find focus, but all I could see was the memory of her lips against mine.

The kiss. The way it wasn't perfect, but somehow it was. I wanted to finish quickly, just to be near her again, to feel that quiet tension between us.

But at least here-I could still look.

She was right there. Close enough to touch. Far enough to miss.

"So... she's back?" Claire's voice broke through my haze.

I blinked, pulling the camera away from my face, pretending I hadn't been staring across the room.

"Yeah," I said, adjusting the settings, trying to sound casual.

Claire crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing slightly. "And? You're not going to explain that?"

I sighed, glancing at her for a brief second before shifting my gaze back to Valeria. Valeria wasn't even looking at me. But I still felt her.

"Later," I muttered, shaking my head. "I'll tell you later."

Claire raised an eyebrow but didn't push. She knew me well enough to know that when it came to Valeria, nothing was simple. I went back to shooting, trying to lose myself in the rhythm of the shutter, but then-

Arms wrapped around me from behind.

Familiar. Unwelcome. Dani.

Her voice was light, playful. "You've been ignoring me all morning." I froze.

Not because of Dani's touch, but because of the memory that slammed into me like a freight train-

"Next time Dani's hand lingers, I'll cut it off." Valeria's voice echoed in my head, dark and possessive in a way that made my chest tighten.

I felt Dani's arms tighten slightly, her laugh brushing against my ear.

And instinctively-

I looked for her. My eyes darted to Valeria. She was already standing.

Her chair scraped softly against the floor as she got up, her expression unreadable, but her body-tense, rigid, like a storm waiting to break.

She didn't say anything. She just started walking toward us. Each step deliberate.

Like Dani's hands were a countdown she was ready to end.

And I-

I didn't know if I wanted to stop her.

Valeria's POV

I didn't hear what Dani said. I didn't need to. Her hands were on Emilia. That's all I saw.

That's all I needed to see.

Something dark and sharp twisted in my chest, tightening with every step I took toward them.

I didn't care about the studio, the people around us, the fact that this wasn't some dark alley where I could deal with problems the way I used to.

I cared about one thing-

Her.

But before I could reach them, Emilia's hands shot up. She gripped Dani's wrist, ripping it off her like it was burning her skin.

Good. But it wasn't enough. Not for me. Before Dani could even process what happened, I grabbed Emilia.

Pulled her toward me. Hard enough to feel the jolt of her body against mine, soft curves meeting my rigid tension.

I felt everything. The way her breath hitched. The way her hands instinctively found my chest for balance, fingers curling slightly-like she was trying to hold onto something solid.

I was solid. For her, I always would be.

I didn't look at Emilia. I didn't have to.

My eyes were locked on Dani-sharp, unblinking, dangerous.

Her smug expression faltered, confusion flickering in her eyes. I let my hand slide from Emilia's waist, fingers brushing over her hip, deliberate, claiming.

Then my voice-low, rough, and edged with a threat I didn't bother to hide.

"Touch her again, and I'll break every finger you have. Slowly."

No smile. No bluff. Just the truth. "Then, I will cut your hands off." Dani's face paled slightly, but she tried to cover it with a laugh, like she wasn't scared.

She was. She should be.

Because I didn't make threats.

I made promises. And I never broke them.

Dani's forced laugh hung in the air, brittle and awkward, like she was trying to pretend my words hadn't just carved a threat into the space between us.

But the tension was thick, alive, vibrating between me and her-and Emilia.

Emilia. I could feel her pressed against me, her heart racing beneath my hand, her breathing shallow. But she didn't pull away. She didn't tell me to stop.

She just stood there, her hands still lightly resting against my chest, fingers curled like she wasn't sure if she wanted to hold on tighter or push me away.

I needed her to hold on tighter. I kept my gaze locked on Dani for a second longer, just to make sure the message landed.

Then, slowly, I turned my head-

And looked at Emilia. I didn't say anything. I didn't have to.

My eyes said it for me.

"Tell her." "Agree with me." "Make it clear."

It wasn't about Dani. It was about us. About what we were. What we weren't saying. What we couldn't say.

Claire let out a low whistle, stepping into the space like she could somehow cut through the thick, suffocating air.

"Damn." She forced a laugh. "Well, this isn't awkward at all."

Emilia's fingers tensed slightly against me. She was about to say something-I could feel it. But I wasn't sure I wanted to hear it.

Because if she laughed it off... If she acted like I was being ridiculous...

If she made a joke-

I'd walk away. Not because I was angry. But because I wouldn't know how to stay.

I kept my eyes on her, my hand still firm on her waist, thumb brushing small, absent circles against her hip-not because I meant to, but because I couldn't stop.

"Val..." Emilia finally breathed out, her voice soft but steady.

She wasn't looking at Dani. She was looking at me.

Her eyes were filled with something I couldn't name, something that felt like a mix of frustration, affection, and maybe-just maybe-reluctant understanding.

She cleared her throat. Then she turned her head slightly, her gaze flickering to Dani.

"Don't touch me like that again." Her voice wasn't loud. Wasn't harsh. But it landed like a slap.

Dani's smile dropped completely. She opened her mouth to argue, to joke, to pretend like it wasn't a big deal-but she didn't.

She just muttered something under her breath and walked away.

Good.

I let out a slow breath I didn't realize I was holding. But I didn't let go of Emilia.

Not yet.

Emilia's POV

Dani stormed off, leaving behind a tension so thick it felt like the walls themselves were holding their breath.

Before I could process what had just happened, Claire let out a low whistle, her attempt to slice through the tension clumsy but oddly effective.

"Torture threats are fun and all," she quipped, raising her eyebrows dramatically, "but you know what sounds amazing? Coffee! Anyone? No? Great, then I'll just be way over there."

She gestured vaguely toward the far side of the studio and shuffled off, muttering to herself like she'd just walked out of a bad sitcom scene.

Once Claire disappeared, the air felt heavier.

Valeria was still standing there, tense and unapologetic, her jaw set in that stubborn way she had perfected.

I took a slow breath, gently tugging her by the wrist and pulling her to a quieter corner of the studio.

"We need to talk," I murmured, trying to keep my voice even.

She followed without resistance, but her posture screamed defiance-arms crossed, jaw clenched, eyes sharp.

"You can't just threaten people like that," I said softly, though my heart was still racing from the adrenaline.

Her response was immediate, her voice low and firm.

"I can when it's about you."

I blinked, both exasperated and-God help me-flustered.

I took a breath, rubbing my temple.

"Valeria, you can't just-"

"I can," she interrupted, her tone flat, like it was the most logical thing in the world. "And I will."

I stared at her, frustration simmering beneath the surface, but there was something else too-something warm, something annoyingly fond.

"Val-"

"No." She crossed her arms tighter, like she was physically holding onto her stubbornness. "I will threaten them. And I won't just threaten them-I'll follow through."

I groaned, pinching the bridge of my nose, feeling the tension morph into something dangerously close to laughter.

She was impossible.

Ridiculous.

Infuriating.

And somehow... adorable.

I stepped closer, closing the space between us, my hands lightly resting on her arms.

"Valeria," I whispered, leaning in, my breath brushing against her cheek.

She didn't move.

Didn't flinch.

Just stood there, her stubbornness wrapped around her like armor.

But I knew how to get through it.

I let my fingers trail up to the back of her neck, pulling her slightly closer, and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of her lips.

She stiffened-just for a second-then exhaled sharply, her body finally relaxing beneath my touch.

"Calm down, baby," I whispered, my lips still grazing her skin.

Her breath hitched, and I felt it-the tension melting away, her stubbornness cracking just enough for me to slip through.

She didn't argue after that.

But she didn't agree either.

She just stood there, staring at me with that same unreadable expression.

And somehow-that was enough.