Chapter 5: A Dangerous Name

Cold wind slapped the window, rattling the frames.

The night outside pressed close, autumn air seeping through the ancient panes. The sound sent a chill down my spine.

Caleb’s gaze was cold and fierce, faintly bloodshot.

His eyes looked haunted, the kind of exhaustion only power and heartbreak could carve.

As I stared at him, I quickly tried to think of a way out.

Every lie I’d ever told, every alibi I’d ever rehearsed, flipped through my mind like flashcards.

But before I could speak, Caleb let go.

His hand slipped away, sudden and final. I resisted the urge to rub my wrist.

He released me, his face calm and indifferent.

He’d always been able to hide his feelings, even when his world was falling apart.

“Nothing.”

He said it so flatly I almost believed him.

My hand hovered in midair for a moment before I gently lowered it. “Which old acquaintance did you mistake this aide for?”

I forced a lightness into my voice, hoping to deflect suspicion.

That was actually crossing the line.

Immediately, I regretted it—too familiar, too bold for a stranger’s voice.

Caleb paused, then snorted and replied.

His nostrils flared in annoyance, the corner of his mouth lifting in a familiar, sarcastic smirk.

“Old acquaintance?” He sneered. “A backstabber, more like.”

The venom in his voice made my chest ache. I flinched, unable to meet his gaze.

Guiltily, I turned my face away.

I fiddled with the edge of my scarf, suddenly fascinated by the weave.

Caleb glanced at me. “What’s wrong, are you sick?”

His tone was abrupt, concern hidden under layers of irritation.

“Thank you for your concern, Mr. President,” I coughed twice for effect, still disguising my voice, “I just didn’t sleep well last night and have a bit of a headache.”

My fake cough sounded as pathetic as it felt, but I stuck to the ruse.

He didn’t ask further, his voice as cold as the night wind: “Then you need not stay here.”

Dismissal, clear and simple. His old Southern politeness was gone, replaced by the clipped authority of command.

I stood still.

No.

Every cell screamed at me to move, but I planted my feet. I couldn't give up.

I couldn’t leave just like this.

The door loomed behind me, promising only failure.

Now that I needed something from him, I had to put myself in the right position.

If groveling didn’t work, maybe old habits would.

Lifting a corner of my scarf, brushing past his neck, I pressed down on Caleb’s shoulder and leaned over.

My heart pounded so loudly I was sure he could hear it. His scent, soap and something uniquely him, filled my senses.

His pupils widened in surprise. In the next instant, my lips, through the scarf, brushed his cheek.

The contact was electric—a jolt of memory and longing that nearly undid me.

A fleeting touch.

Just enough to let him know exactly who I was.

I called his name.

The syllables stuck in my throat, but I forced them out, clear and unmasked.

This time, I didn’t bother disguising my voice.

Let the cards fall where they may.

I called him: “Cal.”

The word hung between us, heavy with the weight of all our years apart.