ADRIEN’S POV
"Mr. Walton," she greeted, cool and composed.
I didn’t respond at first. My eyes followed the guy’s retreating back and then it dropped to the place he’d touched her. Her arm.
My voice ca out flatter than I intended. "Who was that?"
She blinked. "A friend."
I finally looked at her.
She was tense, but standing firm. eting my eyes like she hadn’t just been cozying up to so smiling bastard in the street.
"A friend?" I repeated. "Do friends often show up unannounced to your office during work hours and take you out to lunch?"
She didn’t flinch. "You said I could go have lunch. So I did."
I noticed the way her jaw set. The challenge behind her calm tone. She was defensive.
Good. That made two of us.
"That wasn’t the question."
My gaze dropped again. Her arm. That brief touch. A single point of contact — but it wouldn’t stop playing on a loop in my head.
She crossed her arms. "Do I need to start submitting a list of who I eat with now?"
Every ti she opened her mouth, it was like she needed to test my limits. And sohow, I kept letting her.
But this ti—this ti she looked at like she saw through every wall I’d spent years building.
Like she wasn’t afraid of what she’d find behind them.
I tore my eyes away. "Not yet."
The words ca out colder than I ant them. Or maybe not. I wasn’t sure anymore.
"Let’s go."
I didn’t wait for her to follow. Just turned and headed inside, fists clenched and my breath felt too tight in my chest.
We stepped into the private elevator.
I Should’ve kept my hands at my sides. My mouth shut. My thoughts buried.
But I didn’t.
Instead, I stood there, watching her.
She didn’t look at . Not once.
Her reflection in the polished tal doors stared back — tense jaw, arms crossed and that white top hugging her like a second skin and her hair pulled back in that way that exposed the full line of her neck.
Damn it.
My hand twitched. I looked away.
She’s dangerous. That was the truth, wasn’t it?
That was the reason I brought her into my life on a contract and as an assistant──kept her close enough to use but far enough to stay in control. I knew her type.
But then I moved.
My hand hit the ergency stop. The soft hum of the elevator cut out and everything stopped.
She glanced at , startled. I didn’t give her ti to speak.
"Is he pursuing you?"
The words ca out harder than I intended. My voice was low and quite but the force behind them made the space between us shrink even more.
She blinked. "That’s... irrelevant."
I laughed once, humorless. "Irrelevant? Everything is relevant. Your personal life affects your work. If you’re distracted—"
"I’m not distracted," she said—cutting off. Her voice was sharp. Firm. Challenging.
"I am perfectly capable of separating my personal and professional life, Mr. Walton."
Mr. Walton.
God, I hated the way that sounded coming from her mouth. Too formal. Too cold. Too distant.
She stared at like she wanted to fight.
"My personal life is none of your business!" she snapped. Her voice trembled slightly. Not from fear. But from fury──defiance.
"Levi is a friend. And honestly, even if he wasn’t, it has nothing to do with performing my job."
I wanted to scoff. Wanted to tell her she was right. That I didn’t care. That I hadn’t walked out of my office just to drag her into this elevator and interrogate her like she’d broken .
But instead I leaned in.
Just a little.
Just enough to breathe her in.
It should’ve ended there.
But it didn’t.
"It doesn’t?" I murmured, eyes flicking down — too fast — to her lips. Just a second. Barely.
"Distractions are costly," I said, watching her eyes flash. "And so distractions... are unacceptable."
I didn’t an that smiling, too-comfortable bastard in the street.
I ant her.
She was staring at like she saw right through the walls I’d built. Like she knew exactly what she was doing to and hated that it was working.
My heart kicked hard against my chest.
She was beautiful when she was angry. Too beautiful. It made it harder to breathe.
And it made it so much worse that I could see the exact mont her pulse jumped in her neck.
I clenched my jaw, trying to steady myself.
You can’t want her.
She’s a gold digger. She’s dangerous. She’s under contract. This is madness.
But every part of her defied that label.
"You’re not my concern," I said. The biggest lie I’d told all week.
"But you’re under contract. So, you’re a representation of this company. Of ."
Her laugh was sharp, disbelieving. "Oh, so now my lunch choices are a PR issue?"
"It’s not about lunch," I said, quieter now. My control was slipping and I hated how easy she made it look.
"Then what is it about?" she asked, stepping in.
God. That heat between us was unbearable.
She didn’t realize it—but she was feeding the monster in . The one that wanted to claim her. To kiss her until she forgot whatever na she’d just been laughing with.
And yet—there was nothing in her voice that sounded manipulative. No coy sweetness. No flirtation.
Just anger. Honesty.
Real.
Her eyes t mine.
And fuck, even angry, she looked like—
Peace.
Sothing about her face — the strength in her features, the way her lashes curled over those eyes like she was born to hold storms inside them — it stilled sothing in .
And that scared the shit out of .
I took a deep breath like I could breathe her out.
You should walk away. Say sothing cruel. Make her hate you. Keep your distance. You know what she is.
Her mouth parted slightly, and all I could think was how soft it looked. How I’d barely tasted her that night we kissed and now the hunger hadn’t lessened—it had grown, poisoned .
I didn’t want to want her.
I wanted to own her.
And that ruined everything.
I moved before I could stop myself.
My hand slid behind her neck, her soft hair under my fingers. Her eyes widened. I gave her one second to push away but she didn’t.
And I broke.
My mouth crashed onto hers. Hard.
Her lips were warm.
My heart was pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears and I was expecting her to shove . Slap . Scream.
I held her like she might disappear. Like the contact could burn away the confusion and the suspicion and the damned electricity that is striking within .
But it didn’t.
It only made it worse.
Her hands found my chest, not pulling away but holding on. I made a sound—low, half-growl, half-moan and pressed closer, deepening it.
Her mouth parted and I felt the soft gasp leave her throat and swallowed it like I’d been dying of thirst.
She tasted like everything I wasn’t supposed to want.
Like sin.
Like temptation.
Like peace in chaos.
And I couldn’t stop and I couldn’t think. Couldn’t rember the reasons I should stop.
I wanted to burn her na into every part of .
I wanted to forget logic, contracts, rumors, gold digging, everything.
Because her kiss wasn’t just sweet—it was a fucking war.
She lted and it destroyed .
This wasn’t control anymore.
This was surrender.
I touched the base of her skull and stroked the skin there like I was trying to morize it. Her body leaned into mine, her chest brushing my shirt and I nearly lost whatever restraint I had left.
But I couldn’t lose everything. Not like this.
Not yet.
I pulled back. Slowly. Dragging my lips across hers like I didn’t want to let go. Because I didn’t.
I pressed my forehead to hers, breath ragged. Her eyes opened, dazed and wide and sothing else—hurt?
Fuck.
Why do you look so goddamn beautiful when I’m falling apart?
"This..." I murmured, voice hoarse, "...is a distraction."
A dangerous one.
A perfect one.
And I couldn’t afford perfect.
The silence that returned felt like a scream.
Her lips were still red.
I ran a hand through my hair. Tried to fix the storm on my face. Failed.
Gold digger. Say it again. Say it loud.
But the word felt empty. Like an excuse I no longer believed.
She whispered, "What was that?" and it cut through the air like a blade.
I couldn’t answer.
Because if I spoke, I’d do it again.
So I reached around her and pressed the button and watched the lights flicker and the numbers start rising.
We were moving again but my chest felt like it hadn’t caught up.
She was beside .
But she wasn’t mine.
And God help , I already wanted her again.
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