In which walls come down with the rain.
Aurelia
The storm rolled in just after 10PM. By 10:30, her office windows were streaked with rain, thunder rumbling like a warning.
By 11:00, she couldn't sit still.
She'd read the file three times—Mia's name, the digital fingerprint trail, the time-stamped screenshots, all laid out with surgical precision. Sterling precision.
Max had found the leak.
Quietly. Efficiently.
No press. No gloating. No message.
Just the truth. Silently delivered.
And Aurelia had doubted her.
It wasn't just about being wrong. It was that Max had chosen to shield her instead of using the truth as a weapon. Had spent days hunting answers, not to clear her own name, but to protect Aurelia's.
Aurelia grabbed her bag and left without thinking. No umbrella. No plan.
Just the need to move.
Rain soaked her blazer, hair clinging to her face, mascara smudged. Fifteen blocks later, she stood at Max Sterling's front door.
The doorman didn't ask questions. Just nodded and let her pass.
In the elevator, Aurelia didn't rehearse what to say. What could she say?
When Max opened the door, her surprise flickered only briefly.
"Aurelia."
Soaking wet, silent, shivering.
Max stepped aside. "Come in."
No sarcasm. No defense. Just quiet welcome.
Aurelia stepped into the sleek, familiar space, chilled to the bone. Her throat tightened—not from the rain, but from the warmth in Max's gaze. The absence of judgment.
Max
She didn't expect to see her.
Not like this.
Drenched. Quiet. Vulnerable.
Aurelia stood in her foyer like a storm herself—untamed and unspoken.
Max moved to the hall closet, pulled a towel, handed it over wordlessly.
Aurelia took it. Dried her face, her hair. Didn't speak.
"I saw the report," she said finally.
Max nodded. "Vivien told you."
"No. You did. When you didn't say anything."
Max looked away.
She'd wanted to call. To explain. But the silence had seemed louder than any words. Her actions had been her apology. Her truth.
"I'm sorry," Aurelia whispered. "I didn't want to doubt you. But I didn't know how not to."
Max exhaled slowly. "You're not the only one afraid of trust."
Aurelia's eyes flickered at that. Surprised. Maybe relieved.
"I was taught trust makes you weak," Max said. "Vulnerable."
"And me?"
"You're the storm I keep walking into."
Aurelia's breath hitched—then she stepped into Max's arms.
Not for passion.
Just to be held.
Max hesitated. Then wrapped her arms around her. Careful. Steady.
They stood there in silence, thunder crashing beyond the glass.
Inside, the storm settled.
Confessions
"You should change," Max said, brushing a wet strand from Aurelia's forehead. "Before you catch something."
Aurelia nodded. "Do you have something I could wear?"
Max led her to the bedroom, offered soft cotton clothes—an old henley and drawstring pants. Then turned to leave.
"I'll make tea."
"Max."
She paused.
"Why did you do it?" Aurelia asked. "Why protect me after everything?"
Max kept her voice even. "Because you matter. More than being right. More than pride."
Aurelia stood still for a long time after she left.
No one had ever chosen her like that. Protected her when she didn't deserve it.
She changed. Max's clothes were warm, comforting, and smelled faintly like her.
In the kitchen, two mugs steamed on the counter.
"Chamomile?" Aurelia asked, surprised.
"You needed something soothing."
Aurelia sipped. "How did you know it was Mia?"
"I didn't. At first, I just knew it wasn't me. And that someone wanted you to believe it was."
"Not for your reputation?"
"For you. Because someone used your trust to hurt you."
Aurelia looked down at her mug. "I should've believed you."
Max shook her head. "Trust is hard. We both know that."
"You trusted me," Aurelia murmured. "Even when I didn't trust you."
"I'm still learning," Max admitted.
Thunder cracked. Both women flinched.
"Come on," Max said. "The view's better from the living room."
The Storm
They sat on the sofa, silence stretching. The distance between them slowly disappeared, until Aurelia leaned her head on Max's shoulder.
"Did you ever want to run away?" she asked softly.
"All the time," Max said. "But I wouldn't know who I am without the weight."
Aurelia nodded. "We built our masks too well, didn't we?"
"We forgot what's underneath."
Max brushed a hand across Aurelia's temple. "You make me forget mine."
No kiss followed. No heat.
Just the steady warmth of being seen.
Not as CEOs. Not as rivals.
But as women who were tired of the walls they'd built.
Dawn
They'd eventually moved to Max's bed. Still dressed. Still quiet.
No urgency. No performance.
Just comfort.
"Tell me something real," Aurelia whispered.
Max was silent for a beat. "I wanted to be an architect."
Aurelia blinked. "You would've been brilliant."
"Why?"
"Because you see the skeleton beneath things. The structure holding it up."
Max smiled faintly. "Your turn."
Aurelia traced a finger along the sheet. "I'm not fearless. I just hate stillness. Silence. It makes me see myself."
Max touched her cheek. "I see you."
Aurelia didn't speak.
She just moved closer, tucked her head under Max's chin.
Max wrapped an arm around her, holding her close.
And they stayed like that, breathing together, in the gentle quiet that followed storms.
---
Rain had stopped sometime before dawn. Now, golden sunlight spilled gently across the room, softening the edges of everything.
Aurelia stirred first.
Still tangled in Max's borrowed shirt, she blinked against the light filtering through the windows. Her body ached in a pleasant way—not from passion, but from having finally rested. Really rested. No performance. No control. Just stillness.
Max was already awake beside her, propped on one elbow, watching her with an expression Aurelia didn't yet know how to name.
"You stayed," Max said softly, like it was something sacred.
Aurelia reached up, brushing sleep-tousled strands behind her ear. "I didn't want to leave."
A quiet beat passed.
Then Max leaned in—tentative, like she wasn't sure if she was allowed.
Aurelia met her halfway.
The kiss was slow, unhurried, warm. No sharp teeth or dominant tongues. No power play.
Just lips. Soft. Seeking.
Max's hand came to her waist, fingers pressing into cotton and skin, anchoring. Aurelia exhaled against her mouth, then deepened the kiss, shifting closer, threading her leg over Max's.
There was heat—but it wasn't a firestorm like before. It was the slow, curling warmth of a hearth, built from something gentler.
When they finally parted, Max's voice was a whisper against her cheek. "Come take a shower."
Aurelia raised a brow. "Subtle."
Max smiled. "I wasn't trying to be."
---
The shower filled quickly with steam, heat curling around them as the sound of water hitting tile echoed softly.
Aurelia stepped in first, eyes fluttering shut as the warmth poured over her skin. Max joined her, quiet at first, the space between them humming with something unspoken.
Max reached for the body wash, lathered it into her hands, then pressed her palms to Aurelia's back—slow, unhurried.
Her fingers traced down the line of Aurelia's spine, soft pressure moving over delicate skin, following each curve as if learning it from memory. She slid her hands around her waist, the pads of her thumbs grazing just beneath the swell of her breasts before gliding lower along slick, rain-warmed skin.
Aurelia let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.
She turned, letting Max see her—completely, openly. No armor. No mask. Her eyes held something new. Trust, maybe. Or surrender.
Max's gaze dropped for a moment, lingering at her chest, before meeting her eyes again. "You're beautiful," she said, barely above the water's roar.
Aurelia stepped closer, until their bodies touched—soft breasts pressed between them, water sliding between their thighs, hands finding hips with quiet certainty.
When their mouths met, it wasn't tentative.
It was claiming.
Aurelia's fingers threaded through Max's wet hair as Max's hands roamed—up her sides, over her ribs, thumbs brushing the underside of her breasts before cupping them fully, gently. Her palms molded to the shape of her, her thumbs grazing over hardened peaks, drawing a soft gasp from Aurelia's lips.
"You always touch me like you're not sure I'll stay," Aurelia whispered.
Max's voice was low. "I'm starting to believe you will."
Aurelia smiled faintly—then slipped her hand between their bodies, skimming down Max's abdomen, fingertips teasing along the inside of her thigh.
Max shuddered.
Her hands gripped Aurelia's hips tighter, grounding herself as that clever hand moved higher—closer—until her breath hitched, her forehead falling to Aurelia's shoulder.
They didn't rush.
They let it build—fingers sliding, mouths parting with sighs, hips rolling in gentle rhythm, wet skin slick against slick.
When Max came, it was quiet, her body trembling as Aurelia whispered something soft and wordless against her ear. Then Max pressed her back against the cool tile, eyes fluttering shut as she guided Aurelia with reverent hands—touching her like a woman she'd once feared, and now worshipped.
She kissed down her throat, tasted the rain still clinging to her skin, and knelt slightly, dragging her fingers up the inside of Aurelia's thigh before teasing the spot that made her knees buckle.
Aurelia came with a gasp and a tremor, clutching Max's shoulders, nails biting gently into skin, head tipped back under the hot cascade.
They stayed like that—holding, breathing, the water wrapping around them like a blanket.
---
Wrapped in towels, skin still warm and flushed, they found their way back to the bedroom.
No words for a long moment.
Just the sound of city life returning outside. Distant car horns. A subway rumble. Manhattan, waking up.
Aurelia reached for Max's hand, intertwining their fingers on the sheets.
"You think we're insane?" she asked, not looking at her.
"Absolutely," Max replied. "But I'm not going anywhere."
Aurelia turned to face her fully. "Me either."
Max smiled, and this time, it wasn't the Ice Queen's smirk or the CEO's measured grin.
It was soft. Real.
They kissed again—barely a brush of lips.
But it was enough.