"You've been avoiding me, Elena," he stated quietly. It wasn't a question.
Elena looked up, her heart hammering against her ribs. He leaned down, placing one hand on the back of her chair and the other on the desk, effectively trapping her. The scent of expensive cologne, cedarwood, and pure authority enveloped her senses.
The Chancellor’s eyes narrowed slightly, tracking the movement of her hand. He didn't pull away. Instead, he leaned forward, closing the distance between them across the desk. The air in the room suddenly felt thick, charged with an unspoken tension that had been building since the day they met.
He leaned in closer, and Elena's eyes fluttered shut, waiting for the inevitable collision of their worlds.
"Sir," he repeated, a slow, dangerous smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He stood up and walked around the desk, stopping just inches from her chair. "Is that what we're calling it now? After everything that has passed between us?"
He reached out, his thumb gently tracing the line of her jaw, tilting her head up so she had no choice but to look at him. "Let me worry about the risks, Elena. Right now, the only thing that matters is this."