The penthouse felt heavier that evening, shadows stretching long across marble floors. I tried to focus on organizing his schedule, but every time I glanced up, Adrian's presence filled the room like a tangible force.
He appeared without warning, moving toward me with the same silent authority that always made my pulse quicken.
"Late," he said softly, though the weight behind the word made it feel like an accusation.
"I—sorry," I murmured, aware of how small I sounded under his gaze.
He didn't respond immediately. Instead, he stood there, silent, watching me. The intensity in his eyes made my chest tighten, and I realized my hands had curled into fists at my sides without noticing.
"You're tense," he finally said, voice low, almost intimate. "Too cautious. You need to trust yourself… and trust me."
I froze. Trust. The word felt foreign and dangerous in this context. My life was meant to be measured, controlled, safe. And yet here was Adrian Blackwood, demanding something I wasn't sure I could give.
"I…" My voice faltered. "I'm doing my best."
"Your best is not enough," he said, leaning closer. The air between us crackled; I could feel his heat, smell the faint cologne that seemed to cling to him like a second skin. "You have to anticipate, predict, adapt. Or you fail."
"Yes," I whispered, heart hammering.
He stepped back, the tension lingering like smoke. "Remember the rules," he said softly. "Loyalty. Honesty. Your heart—don't give it away."
I nodded, knowing I was already breaking the invisible boundary. Every glance, every heartbeat, every subtle reaction tethered me closer to him.
Later, alone, I reviewed the day's chaos, trying to focus. But the memory of his gaze, the weight of his presence, the faint, unreadable curve of his lips haunted me.
Survival in his world required vigilance, obedience, and restraint.
And yet, even as I clung to the rules, I felt them bending under the gravity of him.
Adrian Blackwood didn't just control his empire.
He controlled the air around me, the rhythm of my thoughts, and—most dangerously—the spaces inside my chest I wasn't ready to surrender.
And I feared, more than anything, that I already had.