Logan spent the next few days locked in his workshop, consumed by the corset's creation. The piece of steel was no longer just metal—it was a symbol, a challenge. Emilia's words echoed in his mind: Balance. Elegance. Strength. He had built his entire life on raw power and control. The idea of adding grace to something so unforgiving seemed almost absurd.
But the more he worked, the more he realized she was right. Steel could bend. It could curve. It could become something more than just a weapon.
And maybe, just maybe, so could he.
By the time Emilia returned, the corset's frame had taken on a softer form, its ribs arcing in elegant, flowing curves. It wasn't perfect yet, but it was close.
He was just finishing the final adjustments when he heard the familiar click of the workshop door.
She stood there in the doorway again, looking every bit the polished professional, but there was something different in the air this time. The tension between them was palpable, thick like the smoke from the forge.
"Well?" Emilia's gaze swept over the workbench, her eyes narrowing in focus.
Logan wiped his hands on his apron, stepping back to give her room. "It's not done. But it's close."
She moved forward, her fingers lightly grazing the curves of the steel. Her touch was more reverent this time, as if she were seeing something new. "This is… better. I see what you were missing."
Logan's pulse quickened at her praise. "What do you mean?"
"Strength doesn't have to be loud, Logan," she said softly, almost as if speaking to herself. "It can be quiet. Under the surface."
Her words hit harder than he expected. There was an intimacy in her tone, a vulnerability that made him take a step back, unsure how to respond.
"You're not just talking about the corset, are you?" he asked quietly.
Emilia didn't meet his gaze right away. She continued to trace the steel's curves, her fingers almost hypnotic in their movements. "Maybe not."
Logan exhaled, the air heavy with the weight of her unspoken words. They were both dancing around something deeper, a current of attraction neither of them could ignore.
"You think this will work?" he asked, his voice rougher than usual.
"I think it will be more than just a piece of clothing," she replied, her eyes lifting to meet his. "I think it'll be a statement."
Logan's heart skipped a beat at her intense gaze. There was something in her eyes, something that made him feel like he was teetering on the edge of a precipice.
He opened his mouth to respond, but the words didn't come. Instead, he found himself stepping toward her, drawn to the heat between them like a moth to a flame.
Emilia's breath hitched, her gaze flickering to his lips before quickly looking away. "You're getting too close, Logan."
But she didn't pull away.
Neither of them moved. The air was thick, charged, as if the space between them was crackling with electricity.
"I know," he murmured.
It was only then that he realized how much he wanted to close that distance. How much he wanted to feel the warmth of her skin beneath his touch.
But he held back, forcing himself to step back, to give her space.
"Two days," she said, breaking the silence. "I'll need to see the final product by then. Make sure it's ready."
Logan nodded, swallowing the frustration and desire that twisted in his gut. "It'll be ready."
Emilia didn't speak for a moment, her eyes lingering on him as if she were seeing him in a new light. "Good. I'll be waiting."
With that, she turned and walked out, her presence lingering long after she was gone.
Logan stood in the silence of his workshop, staring at the steel corset on the workbench. He could feel the heat of Emilia's touch, the intensity of her gaze.
He wasn't sure whether he was forging a masterpiece or setting himself up for something much more dangerous.
But one thing was certain—this was far from over.