The room tilted a little when Adrian said it.
"We're out of time."
His voice wasn't raised, but it hit like the ground shifting under my feet. He took one step toward me, and suddenly everything in my body went tight—fear, adrenaline, maybe something dangerously close to trust.
"Adrian," I whispered, "what does that mean?"
He didn't answer immediately. That was the first sign things were worse than he was letting on.
The second sign: he didn't look away from me. Not once.
"It means the board meeting is the least of our problems now," he said. "Someone isn't just watching—they're positioning."
"Positioning what?"
"You," he said. "As leverage."
My stomach dropped. "But why me? I'm not— I'm nobody."
His jaw tightened. "You're the person they think I'll react to."
Something hot and cold shot through my chest at the same time.
"That doesn't make sense. You barely know me."
Adrian's expression flickered, just for a second, like I'd caught him off guard. "They don't know that."
"And you don't correct them?"
"I prefer not to hand them accurate ammunition."
Great. I was inaccurate ammunition. Amazing for my self-esteem.
Adrian turned toward the door. "Get your things."
"What? Why?"
"Because you're not leaving my sight tonight."
"Adrian, I—"
"We're not debating this."
He started gathering the scattered papers on the table like the room was about to be evacuated. Maybe it was. My heart hammered against my ribs.
"I can't stay here," I argued. "I can't just—just live in your office with the mood lighting and trauma carpets."
"You're not staying here," he said, voice unmovable.
Oh no.
"You're coming with me."
The words hit harder than they should have. Maybe it was the adrenaline. Maybe the exhaustion. Maybe the earthquake-level shift in my reality over the past forty-eight hours.
"Your place?" I croaked. "As in your actual—where-you-sleep—place?"
His eyes narrowed. "Do you think I'm inviting you for a nightcap?"
Okay, rude. And also, unfair, because my face absolutely heated like he'd caught me thinking it.
"No," I said quickly. "I just—this is a lot."
"It's logistics," he said. Controlled. Calm. Too calm. "You'll have a separate room. A lock. Security. No one gets near you."
"That sounds like… witness protection."
"Close enough."
"Adrian—"
"Lena." He stepped closer, the space between us shrinking until I felt the heat of him. "Someone put a recorder on a CEO-only floor. Labeled with your name. They're escalating. I'm not risking you going home alone."
"I can call a friend."
"You won't."
"You don't know that."
His voice dropped half an octave. "Yes. I do."
The way he said it—quiet, certain—sent a pulse all the way through me. Because a part of me knew he was right. I didn't feel safe going anywhere alone.
And he knew it.
"Just for tonight," I whispered.
"For as long as necessary."
That answer should have terrified me.
Maybe it did.
But it also steadied something in my chest, something trembling and raw.
He turned toward the door. "Let's move."
The elevator ride down was silent except for my heartbeat thudding loud enough to echo off the metal walls. Adrian stood in front of me—literally shielding me from the doors—as if expecting the boogeyman to leap out between floors.
"Do you always do that?" I muttered.
"What."
"Stand in front of me like a human barricade."
"Yes."
Not even pretending otherwise.
Okay then.
When the doors opened in the private garage beneath Cole Global, there were already two black SUVs idling, headlights piercing the dim light. Security was everywhere—stepping out of shadows, scanning the walls, one even checking under the vehicles with a mirror.
"You travel like a head of state," I whispered.
"I am one," he said. "Unfortunately."
He guided me—not touching, but steering the air around me—toward the back of the second SUV. A security guard opened the door.
My breath stuttered.
"Where exactly are we going?" I asked.
"My penthouse."
"Just a cute, casual billionaire sentence to drop."
He almost smiled. Almost. "You'll be safe there."
"Safe," I repeated. "Right. Because nothing says safety like being dropped into the lair of a man everyone is trying to dethrone."
Adrian paused before climbing in after me. "I won't let anything happen to you."
The sentence hit low. Deep.
I opened my mouth to respond—but the security guard shut the door, cutting the moment off.
The city blurred past as the convoy pulled onto the streets. Every traffic light felt like a spotlight. Every shadow felt like it had eyes.
Finally, I whispered, "Do you think Markus was involved? With the recorder?"
Adrian didn't look away from the window. "If Markus wanted to be caught, he'd leave a calling card and send a gift basket."
"So… no?"
"So he's involved only if it benefits him."
"Which means he knows who did plant it."
"I'm aware."
Not comforting.
"Adrian," I said softly, "am I ruining your life?"
He turned sharply, eyes cutting to mine with surgical intensity.
"No," he said. "Someone is trying to make it look that way."
"And it's working."
"It won't."
"How can you be sure?"
"Because I'm choosing the next move, not them."
His certainty rolled through the car like gravity itself.
I didn't breathe for several seconds.
The SUV turned into an underground entrance beneath a tall glass building—quiet, private, tinted windows gleaming like a threat.
Adrian's building.
Security scanned us again, fast and efficient. The SUV pulled into a secluded bay behind steel shutters.
He stepped out first, then held the door for me—an automatic gesture, not soft, more… claiming space. Commanding presence.
I followed him into a private elevator lined with dark glass and soft light. No buttons. Just a biometric scanner he pressed his hand to.
My brain finally caught up.
"Do people actually live like this?" I whispered.
"I don't recommend it," he said. "Too many responsibilities. Not enough sleep."
I huffed something like a laugh. He glanced at me, almost as if checking if I was okay.
The elevator whooshed upward.
"Adrian," I said quietly, "what happens tomorrow?"
He didn't blink. "Tomorrow, the board expects me to walk into a strategy session with my partner."
My heart jerked. "But I'm not—"
"No," he said, "you're not."
"Then what are you going to do?"
The elevator slowed.
Adrian looked at me then—fully, unguarded, eyes dark with something fierce and unyielding.
"I haven't decided," he said. "But whatever I choose… you're not walking into that room alone."
The elevator doors opened.
Into his home.
It was beautiful. Absolutely, impossibly beautiful.
Floor-to-ceiling windows wrapping the entire penthouse. City lights stretching for miles. Sleek lines, warm woods, cold stone, and soft lighting that somehow made everything feel intimate and sharp at the same time.
It didn't feel lived-in.It felt curated. Controlled.Just like him.
I stepped in slowly, hugging myself.
"Do you want water?" Adrian asked.
"I want answers."
His shoulders rose, fell. He gestured toward a deep gray sofa overlooking the skyline.
"Sit."
I didn't move. "Tell me the truth, Adrian. All of it."
He exhaled, long and heavy, the closest thing to exhaustion I'd seen from him.
"Someone planted the recorder because they wanted to see if you'd run to me." He walked closer, voice low. "They want proof we're connected. They want the board to believe I've chosen a partner before tomorrow."
"But why me?" I whispered.
He stopped in front of me again. Too close. Close enough I felt the heat from his body.
"I don't know," he said. "And that's what makes it dangerous."
Silence stretched—thick, trembling.
"Adrian…" My voice cracked. "I'm scared."
Something inside him shifted. His expression tightened—not cold, not soft, but sharp with focus.
"I know."
He lifted a hand—slowly, like giving me time to object—then placed it gently on my shoulder.
Not pulling.Not demanding.Just grounding.
His touch burned through my blouse like a brand.
"You're safe here," he said. "Nothing will happen to you tonight."
I should've stepped back.
I didn't.
The air between us thinned, humming with something I didn't have a name for yet.
Then—
A ping.
From his phone.
Adrian frowned, checking it.
And every muscle in his body went rigid.
My heart jumped. "What? What happened?"
He looked up slowly.
"Lena," he said, "someone just accessed the personnel system again."
My blood froze. "My file?"
"No."
He lifted the phone, turning the screen toward me.
PERSONAL AGREEMENT — ACTIVE STATUS UPDATED04:12 A.M.
A new line appeared under it:
PARTNER: LENA HART — CONFIRMED
My breath shattered.
"What—what does that mean?" I choked.
Adrian's voice dropped to a dark, lethal whisper.
"It means someone just made the engagement official."