The door didn't open. That somehow made it worse.
Adrian stepped in front of me so fast I didn't see him move. One second I had a clear view of the lounge entrance; the next, it was nothing but his back, broad and unyielding.
"Stay behind me," he repeated, quiet enough to be a threat.
My pulse thrashed in my ears. "Who's out there?"
He didn't answer.
The handle turned again—slowly this time. Deliberate. Testing.
Not Markus. Markus wouldn't hide his arrival. And not Ethan; Ethan would've knocked before entering the CEO's private lounge after hours.
That left… people I didn't want to think about.
Adrian shifted his stance, weight centered like he was ready to fight. Actually fight. The controlled CEO melted away; something colder remained.
"Adrian," I whispered, "should we call security?"
"Already done."
"What do you mean already—"
He tilted his head just slightly, like listening for something beyond the door. "They'll reach the floor in thirty seconds."
"Thirty seconds is long enough to die," I hissed.
"Not for you," he said, "because you're staying behind me."
Okay. Cool. Totally reassuring.
The handle stilled.
Nothing.
No voice.No footstep.Just the kind of silence that makes your skin crawl.
Adrian extended one hand behind him, palm open—a silent command not to move. I didn't. Couldn't. My legs were locked.
Then—footsteps. Fast. Coming from the hall, not the door.
Two guards appeared around the corner, black uniforms, earpieces in.
Adrian turned half an inch. "Hallway."
They nodded and swept past, checking both directions. The second one stopped at the lounge door, pressing an ear to it.
"We've got movement inside," he murmured into his mic.
My stomach flipped. Adrian's shoulders tensed.
The guard tried the handle. It turned easily.
He pushed the door open—
And the lights flickered on inside the adjacent private office.
Empty.
Completely empty.
The guard stepped in, checking corners. "No one."
The second guard moved to the narrower back hallway. "Emergency exit's closed. No breach."
No breach. Yet someone had definitely been there.
Adrian didn't relax. Not even a millimeter.
"Run thermal," he said.
The guard pulled a handheld scanner from his belt, sweeping it across the small room. After three slow passes, he shook his head. "Heat signatures are cold. Whoever was at the door never crossed the threshold."
So they stood there. Listening. Watching. Long enough to trigger every panic center in my body.
The guard stepped back. "CEO Cole, do you want us stationed on this floor?"
"For now," Adrian said. "Full perimeter. No one comes up without my authorization."
They nodded and slipped out.
The second the door shut behind them, the silence dropped again.
Adrian didn't turn around right away. His shoulders were rigid, chest expanding slowly like he was wrestling his own pulse into submission.
When he finally faced me, the intensity in his eyes hit hard enough to steal my breath.
"Sit."
It wasn't an order.It was an order disguised as a suggestion.
I sat.
Adrian closed the lounge door behind him and crossed the room, stopping in front of me, leaning his hands on the table. Not looming. Not threatening. But undeniably… there.
"Show me the text."
My fingers were shaky as I handed him my phone.
He read the message once. Then again. His jaw locked.
"He saw the slide," I said quietly. "Who is 'he'?"
Adrian didn't answer immediately.
Which was never a good sign.
"Adrian?"
His gaze lifted, pinning me. "There are people who would prefer I lose control of Cole Global."
"Because they want your seat," I said.
"Because they want what comes with it," he corrected. "Power. Access. Influence. And if my partner is compromised—if you are compromised—then so am I."
The word partner ricocheted in my chest.
"I'm not your partner," I said, softer than I meant to.
His expression flickered. "Not by choice. Not by mine. And definitely not by yours."
I swallowed. "So whose choice was it?"
"That," Adrian said, "is the question."
He straightened, pacing once before stopping at the far side of the table. Agitated in the most controlled way a human being could be agitated.
"When did the text come in?" he asked.
"Right before the door handle moved."
He nodded once. Sharp. "Then whoever sent it either knows the building layout… or they're inside the building."
A chill crawled up my spine. "Inside as in… this floor?"
"No," he said immediately. "They wouldn't risk being caught by internal security. But they could be lower. Or watching remotely."
"Watching how?"
"Our system logs external access," he said. "I'll check it."
"That sounds… hacker-ish."
He didn't deny it.
"Someone wants me scared," I said.
Adrian's jaw flexed again. "Someone wants you reactive. They want to see what you'll do."
"Well they're succeeding because what I want to do is run home, lock my door, and build a fort out of couch cushions."
His eyes softened for half a second. Just half.
"Lena."
"Hm?"
"You are not going home tonight."
My heart misfired. "I—what? No. I live in a studio apartment. I am absolutely going home."
"Someone tested that door," he said. "Someone timed a message to you. I will not send you home alone."
"Then what— Adria— No." I pointed at him. "Whatever you're thinking, the answer is no."
"I'm thinking you're staying somewhere secure."
"Like… with security in the building?"
"Like with me."
I choked. "Absolutely not."
He held my gaze, unwavering. "It isn't a request."
"It sounded like one."
"It wasn't."
"Adrian, I'm not staying in your penthouse like some—some damsel."
"You're staying where I can keep you safe."
"And now I'm a damsel?"
"A protected employee."
"That's worse!"
His brow lifted, almost amused despite the tension. "You're not safe at your apartment. And until I know who sent that text, I'm not letting you leave this building unaccompanied."
I opened my mouth. Closed it. Tried again.
"What if this person wants us rattled? If I just… disappear with you, isn't that giving them exactly what they want?"
"That's the part you don't understand," Adrian said, stepping closer. "They already have what they want."
My breath hitched. "Because my name is on that slide?"
"No."
He stopped directly in front of me, leaning down just enough to steal the oxygen between us.
"Because they know I'll move heaven and hell to keep you out of this."
Something hot and startled sparked low in my chest.
"That," I whispered, "sounds dangerously close to caring."
His throat bobbed. "It's logistics."
"Liar."
His eyes darkened—not angry, just intense. Too intense.
A knock on the door snapped the moment in half.
Both of us turned sharply.
"Sir?" came a voice—one of the guards. "We found something."
Adrian straightened, controlled again. "What?"
The guard hesitated. "It's in the elevator bank camera feed. Someone lingered on your floor… watching the lounge door. They left behind a device."
My stomach dropped. "A device?"
"A small one," the guard said. "Looks like it was meant to record sound."
Adrian didn't move for a full beat.
Then—
"Where is it now?" he asked.
"We secured it. It's a mic, sir. Someone planted a listening device."
Adrian's gaze flicked to me.
Something cold and fierce carved into his expression.
"They were listening," I whispered.
"Not anymore," the guard said. "But one more thing, sir. The device was labeled."
"Labeled how?" Adrian asked.
The guard lifted a small evidence bag. Inside was a black microrecorder.
And taped across the back—
A piece of white label maker tape.
Printed in clean block letters:
HART.
The room tilted. My breath stalled.
Adrian stepped in front of me again, voice lethal, commanding.
"No one leaves this floor. Shut everything down."
Then he looked at me.
"Lena," he said quietly. "We're out of time."