Chapter 3: Tensions and butterflies Samantha's POV

"Now... tell me exactly what Marcus did to make you cry."

My countenance changed immediately. The vulnerability I’d been trying so hard to mask began to crack under his intense gaze.

"Today is actually our anniversary, but he didn't show up," I whispered, staring down at my lap. "But then honestly, I’d be lying if I said I didn't see the signs. I’ve known for a while that he doesn't love me anymore..."

Rick listened without judging or interrupting, giving me his absolute, rapt attention. His quiet presence was a steady anchor in the dark room.

"But I love him so much, and he just keeps hurting me," I continued, my voice trembling. "You know, I actually made the reservations tonight because I wanted today to feel special." I let out a sharp, mocking laugh at myself, blinking back fresh tears. "I guess it was all for nothing."

I looked up, staring straight into Rick’s dark eyes. "Pathetic, right?"

Rick’s eyes bore into mine, completely unwavering. He didn't offer empty pity. Instead, he stepped closer, his massive shadow blocking out the flickering candlelight.

"There's nothing noble about being in love, Sammie," he said, his deep voice carrying a terrifyingly beautiful weight. "You do stupid shit when you're in love and you tolerate stupid shit too. It doesn't make you less of a human."

He said it like he meant every single word, and looking at the raw sincerity in his face, I knew he did. It was the most validated I had felt in months, and it was coming from a twenty-four-year-old who was supposed to just be my friend.

The silence that followed was suffocating. The air in the office grew thick, charged with a sudden, magnetic heat that made my skin tingle. He was standing right in front of me now. My heart hammered against my ribs—not from sadness over Marcus anymore, but from pure, unadulterated desire for the man standing before me.

Every rule I had, every principle about not dating younger guys, began to dissolve. I wanted him to touch me. I wanted to forget everything but somehow, I felt like this was wrong. I didn't want to want this, but I couldn't help myself. I was twenty-eight. I was supposed to be the older one, the mature one, the bigger person here. I shouldn't be leaning into the comfort of a dangerous twenty-four-year-old while the sting of my two-year relationship was still fresh on my skin.

But logic meant nothing in the shadow of his frame.

“Rick…” I breathed.

My voice was a plea, though even I didn't know if I was begging him to stop or begging him to take a step closer.

Rick didn't stop. He closed the remaining distance between us, his large hands reaching out to gently outline the curve of my waist. "You just look so good in this dress," he murmured, his deep voice dropping to a gravelly, reverent whisper that vibrated right against my skin.

His big hands were warm through the fabric, anchoring me to him. His gaze dropped to my lips, his breathing turning shallow as he leaned down.

The heavy tension in the room was at an absolute breaking point. I closed my eyes, completely caught between my principles and my desire, waiting for the line to finally shatter—but the kiss never came.

I opened my eyes to find him staring down at me.

“You're clearly vulnerable and I don't want to take advantage of that,” he murmured.

“What?” I asked in disbelief. My heart was pounding so hard against my ribs I was certain he could hear it.

He ran his fingers through my hair, his thumb lightly tracing my bottom lip, sending a final shiver down my spine before he completely withdrew from me.

“I want you to actually want me and not use me as a means to forget how your boyfriend hurt you," he said, his deep voice thick with a heavy, raw honesty. "Plus, I know you still love that shithead, and I wouldn't want you to have any regrets later about us."

“You can't possibly mean that.” My voice sounded more like a whisper.

He kept his eyes on me without saying a word.

I didn't know whether to feel grateful for his restraint or deeply frustrated that he had left me burning.

Just then, the overhead lights flickered and hummed back to life, flooding the office with a sudden, harsh brightness. The intimate shadows vanished, and with them, the spell we’d been under completely broke. I blinked against the glare, suddenly feeling incredibly self-conscious in my ruined dress.

Rick cleared his throat, stepping back toward his desk. The protective, dangerous aura he always carried was back in place, masking whatever he was feeling. "Looks like the power's back. The roads should clear up soon."