The air in the closet turned thick as honey. She should have laughed, dismissed it, walked out. Instead, she whispered, “I have a rule.”

“Eleanor,” he repeated, tasting the word. “I like it. It sounds like a cathedral or a storm.”

“Occupied!” she yelped.

“That’s not in the project brief.”

“I told you,” he said, kissing her again. “I build stories. And ours was always going to end like this.”

Then came Jude Kaelin.

“That’s observing .” His smile softened into something genuine. “You’re kind, Eleanor. The kind of kind that doesn’t want credit. I find that… dangerously attractive.”