The call came just after midnight.
Adrian answered it instantly, his expression hardening as he listened. I watched from the edge of the bed, heart racing, knowing before he spoke that something had shifted again.
"They moved faster than expected," he said when the line went dead. "You're no longer safe in separate rooms."
My breath caught. "So what now?"
He held my gaze for a long moment, calculating—not outcomes, but consequences. Then he reached for his phone again.
"Cancel the acquisition," he said into the receiver. "Effective immediately."
I froze. "Adrian, that deal—"
"Was leverage," he replied calmly, ending the call. "And it's no longer worth the cost."
That deal was months in the making. Power. Influence. Protection. He had been willing to burn cities for less.
"You're giving it up," I whispered.
"Yes."
"For me?"
He stepped closer, voice low and unguarded. "For us."
The admission settled heavy and irrevocable. Adrian Blackwood did not sacrifice power lightly. And yet, here he was—choosing something fragile, human, dangerous.
Security cleared the adjacent suite quickly. One bedroom. One bed. No alternatives.
"This is temporary," he said, as if saying it aloud could make it safer.
"I know," I replied, though my pulse told a different story.
Night pressed in around us. We stood on opposite sides of the room, the distance charged, fragile.
"I won't touch you," he said quietly. "Not like this. Not under fear."
"I trust you," I replied.
That broke something in him.
He exhaled slowly, then moved to sit on the edge of the bed, leaving space—always space. I joined him moments later, the mattress dipping, awareness sharp and unavoidable.
"You should sleep," he said.
"So should you."
He hesitated, then lay back beside me, close enough to feel his warmth, not close enough to claim. His arm hovered, uncertain.
"Adrian," I murmured.
He turned toward me. "I will burn everything before I let them hurt you," he said quietly. "Including the man I used to be."
Emotion tightened my throat. "And if that destroys you?"
His hand found mine—gentle, deliberate.
"Then at least I chose."
In the dark, under threat, sharing breath and heat, I understood the truth fully for the first time.
Adrian Blackwood hadn't just broken a contract.
He had surrendered power.
And that was the most dangerous move of all.