Adrian Moretti didn't believe in love.
Not the kind they wrote about in books or wrapped in ribbons on Valentine's Day.
Love, to him, was a weapon. Something people used to get what they wanted — money, status, revenge. He'd seen it rot marriages, destroy alliances, and crack the spines of empires that once stood strong.
But then came her.
Celeste Rivera.
The girl who walked into his world without permission and made it impossible for him to look away.
She didn't know him — not really.
They'd been in the same friend group for almost two years now, introduced casually at a rooftop birthday dinner thrown by one of his business partners. She'd shown up late, breathless, her curls still damp from a shower and her heels mismatched. She laughed it off like it was nothing, plopping down beside Ethan — her boyfriend — and apologizing to the table with a grin that made even the city lights feel dim.
Adrian hadn't taken his eyes off her since.
To everyone else, he was the mysterious "tech investor" who barely spoke but always paid the bill.
To Celeste, he was "Adrian, right? Ethan's friend?"
That's all she ever called him. Ethan's friend.
She never knew he owned the building they were having dinner in. Or that his last name made men flinch. Or that he wasn't in tech at all — unless you considered arms dealing and international smuggling a form of IT.
It didn't matter.
He liked the way she looked at him — like he was just a guy. A stranger. Invisible. Safe.
So he stayed there. Quiet. Watching.
He never crossed a line.
He never touched her.
Never confessed that he knew her favorite drink (iced caramel macchiato, extra shot), or that her birthday was November 2nd, or that she hated wearing socks unless they were mismatched.
He just… watched.
Made sure she got home safe from late-night dinners.
Made sure no one slipped anything into her drink.
Made sure Ethan — the boyfriend with the charming smile and too many secrets — didn't drag her into anything she couldn't get out of.
Ethan was the type of man Adrian used to be — a liar wrapped in gold.
And Celeste? She was too soft to see it.
Tonight, she was laughing again. Leaning into Ethan's side on the balcony of the bar, twirling her wine glass and looking up at the stars like they belonged to her.
Adrian stood near the railing, a few feet away, half-listening to a conversation he didn't care about. His eyes were on her. They always were.
She looked happy.
And it made his chest ache.
Because he knew something was coming.
Something that would shatter that smile and burn that joy out of her eyes.
He didn't know how or when.
But he'd seen it before — the shift in the air before everything explodes.
And when it did, when her world finally fell apart…
He'd be there.
Not as her lover.
Not as her hero.
But as the stranger who had never once left her side.