The air between them had shifted.
Laila wasn’t sure when exactly, but she felt it—like a wire pulled too tight, one wrong move away from snapping.
It had been two days since the restaurant stunt, two days of stolen glances, forced proximity, and Aziel testing her patience at every turn.
And now? He had crossed the line.
She stood frozen, staring at him as he leaned back on the couch, looking completely unbothered by his crime.
"You kissed my forehead." Her voice was flat, but her eyes burned.
Aziel smirked. "I did."
Laila inhaled sharply. "That’s against the rules."
Aziel tapped his fingers against the armrest, utterly unfazed. "Remind me which rule says I can’t kiss my wife’s forehead?"
Laila clenched her fists. "The one that says no unnecessary touching."
Aziel tsked. "Ah, but that wasn’t unnecessary. Khaled’s men were watching from across the table."
Laila narrowed her eyes. "I checked. The footage. The man was not connected to Khaled. You lied."
Aziel’s smirk deepened, dark and knowing. "Did I?"
Laila’s breath hitched. He was toying with her, enjoying the way her resolve wavered. The worst part? It was working.
She turned on her heel, muttering under her breath. "I should hack your bank account."
Aziel chuckled. "You’d be disappointed."
Laila paused. "Why?"
Aziel stretched, the muscles in his arms flexing under his shirt. "Because most of my assets aren’t in my name."
Laila’s curiosity sparked despite herself. "Paranoid much?"
Aziel’s smirk faded just a fraction. "Experience."
Laila studied him for a second. He was always so cocky, so sure of himself. But in that brief moment, she caught a glimpse of something else.
A shadow.
Something he didn’t talk about.
Laila, the hacker, the girl who lived in encrypted codes and untraceable data, realized something unsettling.
She wanted to know his secrets.