Elena barely slept.
Every time she drifted off, her mind replayed the garden: Adrian's hand gripping her wrist, the storm in his eyes, the breath they had almost shared. The near-kiss that wasn't supposed to happen. The moment she'd felt her heart jump toward him as if it wanted to betray her.
She hated that.
Hated how easily he could unravel her with a single look.
This marriage was supposed to be a transaction, a lifeline, a cage. Nothing more.
Yet here she was, waking up in a luxe bedroom that didn't feel like hers, heart pounding over a man who barely looked at her unless he was trying to slice her open with his cold stare.
She splashed cold water on her face and forced herself to breathe.
A knock echoed from the other side of the door.
"Elena?" It was Anna, one of the house staff. "Mr. Vale requests that you get ready. There's an event this afternoon."
Of course there was.
There was always something meetings, galas, dinners. Being the wife of Adrian Vale meant playing a role she still didn't understand.
"What kind of event?" she asked as she opened the door.
"A charity luncheon," Anna said gently. "The guest list is… important. And Mr. Vale asked that you look prepared."
Prepared.
As if she were ammunition he needed polished.
Elena nodded, even though something twisted in her chest. "I'll be ready."
Anna gave her a sympathetic smile and set a gown across the bed. "He picked this for you."
Elena's breath caught.
It was beautiful black silk, soft and fluid, the kind of dress worn by women who belonged in the world Adrian lived in. Women who were born into money, not dragged into it by desperation.
"Thank you," Elena whispered.
Anna touched her arm before leaving. "You'll do fine, dear."
Elena wished she believed her.
Adrian was waiting.
He stood at the base of the staircase in an immaculate suit, posture perfect, expression unreadable. He looked like he'd carved himself out of ice to avoid remembering that a few hours ago he almost kissed his wife.
Elena descended the stairs slowly. His gaze flicked up briefly, but the impact hit her like a current. His expression revealed nothing, yet she felt the shift in the air.
Her pulse hammered.
He held out his arm.
"Shall we?" His voice was smooth, detached, practiced.
A man used to pretending.
She hesitated before placing her hand on his arm. He didn't look at her, but she felt how tense he was under the fabric of his suit. She wasn't the only one who hadn't slept well.
He guided her to the car, opening the door with a courtesy that felt colder than indifference. She slid in, telling herself she didn't care.
He followed a moment later, the door shutting with a soft thud.
The silence was suffocating.
Elena kept her eyes on the passing city, while Adrian sat straight, jaw tight, hands relaxed only in appearance.
Finally, she spoke first.
"What exactly is this luncheon for?"
"A hospital expansion project," he said without looking at her. "Networking, public relations, philanthropy. The usual."
"And what do you need me to do?"
He glanced at her then. A quick sweep of his eyes from her hair to her shoes.
"Smile. Stand beside me. Say as little or as much as you want. Just don't leave my side."
Her stomach tightened. "Why?"
"Because people will try to use you to get to me."
She blinked. "Why would anyone use me?"
A muscle moved in his jaw.
"Because you're my wife."
The words sounded heavier than they should have. She didn't know why her throat felt tight afterward.
The luncheon was a stage,
Crystal chandeliers. Marble pillars. Soft music drifting like perfume. Hundreds of people dressed in expensive clothes and expensive smiles.
Adrian stepped into the room like he owned it.
People turned. Heads angled his way. Elena felt it ripple across the space like a bowstring pulled tight.
He placed a hand on the small of her back light, but commanding.
"Stay close," he murmured.
Her heartbeat skittered.
He moved through the crowd, greeting people with a charm so flawless she wondered if he'd rehearsed it. He looked nothing like the man who'd quietly fallen apart in the garden the night before. Nothing like the man who seemed haunted in the shadows of his own home.
This version of him was confidence wrapped in cold beauty. Power in a tailored suit.
A stranger.
"Elena," he said quietly without turning. "Tilt your chin up. Don't look overwhelmed. They can smell weakness."
She stiffened. "I'm not overwhelmed."
His hand pressed slightly into her back.
"You're trembling."
She cursed inwardly. She hadn't realized.
Before she could respond, a woman in a red dress approached. Talk, glassy smile, dripping elegance. She touched Adrian's arm like she owned the right.
"Adrian, darling," she purred.
Elena froze.
Adrian's expression didn't change. "Cecilia. Good to see you."
Cecilia's eyes flicked to Elena, cool and assessing. Her smile tightened by a single cruel degree.
"And this must be the new wife." The way she said it made Elena feel like a mistake on display.
Adrian's voice dipped, quiet and sharp. "Elena, this is Cecilia Hart. Old acquaintance."
Cecilia?
The name hit Elena harder than it should have.
She extended a polite smile. "Nice to meet you."
Cecilia didn't even pretend to hide her disdain. "I suppose anyone can be lucky these days."
Elena felt heat crawl up her neck. Adrian's jaw ticked once infinitesimal, but there.
"Cecilia," he said softly, "walk away."
The woman blinked. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me."
The edges of his voice were razor clean, and for the first time, Elena saw someone in this world actually flinch.
Cecilia left without another word.
Elena swallowed hard. "You didn't have to..."
"She was testing you," he cut in. "I don't tolerate that."
It was the closest thing to protection he'd ever offered her.
And the strangest part?
He hadn't said it for show.
He said it for her.
But the real shock came later.
After speeches and photographs and endless handshakes, Elena found herself alone for a moment near the terrace doors.
She stepped outside to breathe.
The air was cool and tasted like freedom. She didn't hear the door open again, but she felt his presence before he spoke.
"Elena."
She turned. Adrian stood there, hands in his pockets, face unreadable. But something in him had changed. A quiet crack. A soft collapse.
"I shouldn't have brought you here," he said.
The confession startled her.
"Why?"
"It's dangerous."
She frowned. "It's just a charity event."
He shook his head. "Not for people like me."
That line echoed in her chest.
"Adrian," she said softly, "you did well today. Everyone respected you. No one even..."
"They were watching you," he cut in. "All of them."
She blinked, confused. "Watching me?"
"You're the unknown variable. The wife who wasn't part of my world. The one no one expected."
His eyes lifted to hers. For once, they weren't cold.
They were… worried.
Worried for her.
Her breath caught.
"You don't have to be afraid for me," she whispered.
The moment those words left her mouth, something washed over his face something raw and unguarded.
A storm breaking in silence.
He stepped closer. Too close. The terrace lights softened his features, turning him human in a way she'd never seen.
"Elena," he said quietly, "you don't understand what I'm capable of."
She didn't look away. "Then explain it."
A muscle moved in his throat. His eyes lowered for a moment, a flicker of something she didn't recognize.
Not anger.
Not arrogance.
Fear.
Fear of himself.
She reached out before she could stop herself and touched the sleeve of his suit.
That tiny touch shattered him.
His breath hitched barely, but real. His eyes closed like the feeling burned.
He stepped back at once, breaking the moment in two.
"Don't," he said, voice rough.
She pulled her hand back. "I'm not hurting you."
"You are."
Silence hung between them. Heavy. Fragile.
"Adrian," she whispered, "last night… you almost...."
"I know," he said sharply.
"And today..."
"I know."
He raked a hand through his hair. For the first time since she'd met him, he looked shaken. Not angry. Just… lost.
"Elena," he said quietly, "you're not supposed to matter."
The words hit like a blade.
She swallowed. "But I do?"
He didn't answer. He couldn't.
He just looked at her like she was something dangerous. Something he couldn't afford to want.
Something he couldn't stay away from.
He finally whispered, "Go wait in the car."
She wanted to ask why. She wanted to reach for him again. But the look on his face made her leave without another word.
Adrian stayed on the terrace alone.
His shoulders dropped. His hands curled into fists. He stared at the city below like he was trying to hold himself together.
He didn't know how to protect his empire and protect her at the same time.
He didn't know why she was breaking through walls no one in his life had ever breached.
He didn't know why a single touch from her felt like warmth he hadn't earned.
But he did know one thing:
She was becoming the one weakness he couldn't afford.
And that terrified him more than anything else in his world.