The penthouse was quiet when I arrived, yet the air felt electric, charged with his presence even before I saw him.
Adrian was in the study, reviewing a series of documents with a concentration that made the world outside fade.
"You're early," he said without looking up.
"I wanted to finish prep before your call," I replied, forcing my voice steady.
He finally lifted his gaze, piercing. "Good. Anticipation will keep you ahead. Mistakes will not."
I nodded, aware of the silent weight behind his words. It wasn't just a warning—it was a command I couldn't ignore.
Hours passed in relentless precision. Calls, schedules, and logistics consumed every ounce of focus I had, yet Adrian hovered like a shadow, correcting, instructing, watching. Every time I glanced up, his eyes pinned me in place, demanding attention I couldn't fully give without losing my composure.
During a brief break, he appeared by my side, silent until my hand brushed against the edge of his desk.
"You're tense," he murmured, close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from him.
"I… I'm managing," I said quickly, though the lie felt thin.
His gaze lingered, sharp, unreadable. "Managing isn't enough. Not here. Not with me."
A shiver ran through me at the implication. His proximity was dangerous, but the draw was undeniable.
"I… understand," I whispered.
He stepped back, but the tension didn't dissipate. Every fiber of me was alert, aware of his power, his presence, the invisible tether pulling tighter.
Later, alone, I reviewed notes, trying to focus, but the memory of his eyes, the quiet command in his tone, haunted me.
This world demanded vigilance, obedience, and restraint. And yet, the harder I tried to remain detached, the stronger the pull toward him became.
Adrian Blackwood was no ordinary man. He wielded control like a weapon, and I was both terrified and captivated by it.
I reminded myself fiercely of the rules: answer, be honest, don't fall in love.
But even as I clung to them, I felt the lines blur. Every glance, every subtle gesture, every unspoken command was fracturing my calm—and igniting something I wasn't sure I wanted to resist.