Sophia couldn't stop shaking.
The anonymous message burned in her mind long after the phone went dark. It wasn't just a threat — it was a warning. She was now a target.
And the worst part? She wasn't sure if Adrian had put her in danger… or if Adrian was the only one keeping her safe.
---
Confrontation
She stormed into the living room, where Adrian stood by the glass wall overlooking the city, his silhouette hard against the night sky. He turned at the sound of her footsteps, his gaze locking on the phone clutched in her trembling hand.
"Who sent it?" he asked, voice low, dangerous.
"I don't know," Sophia shot back, her voice cracking. "But someone knows about me. About us. And you—" She swallowed, fighting the lump in her throat. "You didn't tell me what kind of world I was stepping into."
Adrian's jaw flexed. For once, he didn't try to deny or control the narrative. He walked toward her, every step deliberate, until the air between them vibrated with tension.
"You're right," he said finally. "I should've told you more. But if I had, you would've run."
"Maybe I should run now," she whispered.
Adrian's hand shot out, cupping her face, forcing her eyes to meet his. "Do you want to?"
Her breath hitched. The truth lodged like a stone in her chest. "I… I don't know."
---
He let out a heavy sigh, releasing her. For a moment, his expression softened — less the untouchable mogul, more the man he tried to bury.
"I wasn't born into this life," Adrian said, pacing away from her. "I grew up fighting for scraps. My father was nothing. My mother died before I knew her face. Everything I have now—" he gestured at the penthouse, the skyline beyond "—I built with my own hands. But power doesn't come clean, Sophia. You can't climb this high without blood on your shoes."
Her stomach tightened. "And the men last night?"
"Rivals. Liars. Thieves. People who would take everything I've built if I let them." His eyes darkened. "I can't afford weakness. Not in business. Not in war."
She flinched at the word war. "So why me, Adrian? Why drag me into this? Was it all just a game?"
His silence stretched long enough that it hurt. Then, quietly, "Because I saw something in you. Something real. And I needed something real to remind me I'm not just… this."
---
Too Deep To Leave
Sophia's heart ached. She wanted to scream, to tell him she couldn't live with half-truths and violence. But instead, she saw the broken boy behind the ruthless man — and it undid her.
She thought of leaving. She pictured packing her things, tearing up the contract, walking away before it was too late.
But when she closed her eyes, all she saw was him.
The way he kissed her like she was both salvation and sin. The way he touched her like he owned her, and somehow, she wanted to be owned.
She realized with a sick twist in her stomach: she wasn't staying because of money, or fear, or obligation.
She was staying because her heart was already too deep to leave.
---
Reconciliation
Adrian stepped closer, hesitating as though afraid she'd recoil. "Sophia…"
But she didn't move away. Instead, she reached for him, her hand sliding against his jaw, her thumb brushing the rough stubble. His eyes closed briefly, as if her touch was the only mercy he'd been granted in years.
The kiss came slow this time. Not urgent, not brutal. Tender. Searching. As though he was asking her to forgive him without words.
Sophia melted into it, her body pressed against his, her fingers curling into his shirt. The heat built, but underneath it was something deeper — an unspoken promise that, despite the darkness, they still belonged to each other in this fragile moment.
When they finally broke apart, breathless, she whispered, "Don't lie to me again."
His gaze burned into hers. "Then don't ever leave me."
---
The Cliffhanger
Later, Adrian drove her back to her apartment, insisting she'd be safer with her own things while he "handled business." He kissed her forehead before leaving, and for the first time, Sophia almost believed in the softness behind his armor.
But as she climbed the stairs to her floor, her skin prickled. That crawling, unmistakable sense of being watched.
She turned sharply.
A shadow shifted at the far end of the hall, just beyond the flickering light. Someone stood there, still as stone, watching her.
Her breath caught. "Who's there?"
No answer.
She blinked, and the shadow was gone.
But Sophia knew, with bone-deep certainty, that she wasn't imagining it. Someone was following her.
And this time, they weren't hiding threats behind a screen.