Adrian Vale did not lose control.
That was the lie he told himself as he stood alone in his penthouse, jacket tossed somewhere expensive, tie undone like it offended him. The city glittered outside the glass walls, obedient, predictable.
Unlike her.
He poured a drink he didn't need and didn't taste. It burned anyway.
Nyra.
Her name sat in his head like a glitch unresolved, looping, infuriating.
She had walked back into ValeTech like nothing touched her. No tremor in her voice. No hesitation. No apology. Just that calm, unreadable stare like she hadn't just dismantled his entire day by existing in the wrong way.
Adrian slammed the glass down harder than necessary.
He hated that she wasn't his type.
Too sharp.
Too street.
Too unpolished.
Too many opinions.
Too many silences where obedience should have been.
She represented everything he avoided chaos disguised as competence. A woman who didn't need permission, didn't respond to power the way she was supposed to.
And yet.
His jaw tightened.
There was something about the way she stood her ground. About the way she looked at him like he was just another obstacle, not the prize everyone else tripped over themselves to reach.
That look had followed him home.
Adrian dragged a hand through his hair, pacing. Control had always been his weapon. His shield. His religion. He built companies the way others built walls precise, impenetrable.
Nyra cracked him anyway.
Not with rebellion.
With indifference.
He replayed the moment again her mouth, sharp and careless, saying exactly what she wanted without checking how it would land. The faintest hint of a smile she didn't owe him.
His chest tightened.
"This is temporary," he said aloud, voice steady, convincing no one.
She was a problem to solve. A variable to manage. A lesson in boundaries.
That's all.
He pulled up security footage on his tablethabit, not obsession. Cameras, access logs, timestamps. Data always calmed him.
Except tonight.
Her workstation was empty in every frame. Her badge inactive longer than usual. Elias covering, smooth, too smooth.
Adrian's jaw flexed.
Where are you?
The question came uninvited. He hated that more than anything.
He set the tablet down before he crossed a line he couldn't justify yet.
This wasn't desire.
It was disruption.
And disruption demanded correction.
Adrian went to the window again, city reflecting back a version of him that looked composed, untouched.
But inside, something burned hot, ugly, restless.
He wanted her close.
Not because he needed her.
Because he wanted to prove he could still control the equation.
He finished the drink in one swallow.
Tomorrow, he'd tighten the leash.
Tomorrow, he'd reassert distance.
Tomorrow, Nyra would remember where she stood.
Except
Deep down, beneath the suits and systems and certainty, Adrian Vale knew one thing he refused to say out loud:
She had already changed the rules.
And men like him never took that lightly.