The week after the gala moved like a storm Elena couldn't escape. Ever since Adrian's announcement to the board—naming her as his "most trusted associate"—she felt the walls closing in tighter every day.
It wasn't just the attention of coworkers whispering in corridors, their eyes heavy with speculation. It was the way Adrian inserted himself into her daily rhythm. He was everywhere.
Meetings she once handled alone, he now attended. Reports she once submitted through the system, he demanded in person. Even her coffee breaks seemed monitored, his sharp gaze catching her across the lounge as though daring her to slip.
By the fourth day, Elena's nerves were stretched thin.
She pushed through the glass doors of his office, clutching a thick stack of files. Her heartbeat drummed faster than she cared to admit.
"You wanted the quarterly drafts," she said briskly, laying them on his desk.
Adrian leaned back in his chair, sleeves rolled up, tie loosened. The casualness was disarming, but the intensity in his eyes cut through her resolve.
"I wanted them yesterday," he said.
Elena exhaled sharply. "I had to correct half the figures after your finance team miscalculated. If you'd like incorrect reports, I can provide those faster."
For a moment, silence. Then—something unexpected. His mouth curved, not quite a smile, but close enough to make her chest tighten.
"Sharp," he murmured. "But excuses, nonetheless."
She bristled. "You don't intimidate me, Adrian."
He rose from his chair, crossing the space between them with deliberate steps. Every move seemed calculated, as if he enjoyed how much space he occupied. By the time he stopped, he was inches away.
"Are you certain about that?"
Her breath caught, not because of fear—but because of the nearness. She could smell the faint trace of his cologne, sharp and clean, the kind that clung even after he left a room.
She forced herself to meet his eyes. "Positive."
"Good," he said softly, though his tone carried a weight. "Because I don't need employees who crumble under pressure."
Her pulse hammered. "And I don't need a boss who mistakes control for leadership."
The air between them thickened.
Neither moved. Neither spoke. It was a battle of wills, silent but consuming.
Then his phone buzzed, breaking the spell. Adrian stepped back, picked up the call, and spoke in clipped tones. Elena caught only fragments—"investment in Dubai," "delays," "not acceptable."
He ended the call, jaw set hard.
"You'll accompany me to Paris," he said abruptly.
Her head jerked. "What?"
"Tomorrow. A partner is threatening to pull out. I need leverage. And for some reason, they trust you."
Elena folded her arms. "And if I say no?"
Adrian's gaze hardened. "Then consider your contract void. Along with your career."
Her stomach twisted. He was using the same weapon again—her ambition. He knew she couldn't afford to walk away, not now.
"I'll go," she said through clenched teeth. "But don't mistake this for loyalty."
He gave a slow nod, as if he had expected nothing less. "Pack something suitable. We leave at dawn."
The next day blurred into motion. A private car to the airport. A jet that screamed wealth and control. Elena sat opposite Adrian, the cabin silent except for the hum of engines.
He typed on his laptop without once glancing at her. She told herself she was grateful for the distance, but her eyes betrayed her, darting toward him when she thought he wouldn't notice.
At one point, turbulence jolted the plane. Her hand gripped the armrest tightly. Adrian's eyes flicked to her, a faint smirk tugging at his mouth.
"Afraid of a little shaking?"
She shot him a glare. "Not afraid. Just cautious."
"Good," he said, returning to his screen. "Fear clouds judgment. Caution sharpens it."
By the time they landed in Paris, exhaustion pulled at Elena's body, but Adrian moved as if the trip had cost him nothing.
At the hotel—a sleek tower of glass overlooking the Seine—they were escorted to the top floor.
One suite.
Elena froze. "There must be some mistake. I need a separate room."
The concierge smiled politely. "Monsieur Blackwood requested this arrangement."
Her eyes snapped to Adrian. "You planned this?"
He shrugged, completely unbothered. "Logistics. The hotel is overbooked. If it makes you uncomfortable, you can sleep in the sitting room."
Her jaw tightened. "You're insufferable."
He leaned closer, voice low enough only she could hear. "And you're predictable. But don't worry, Elena. You're not my type."
The words stung, even though they shouldn't have. She followed him into the suite, tossing her bag onto the couch with more force than necessary.
That evening, Adrian's partner arrived—a French magnate named Laurent Dufour. He greeted Adrian with a warm embrace but turned to Elena with unexpected charm.
"Enchanté," Laurent said, taking her hand. "Adrian has spoken of you."
Elena shot Adrian a sharp glance. "Has he now?"
Adrian's face gave nothing away.
The dinner meeting unfolded with champagne, laughter, and sharp negotiations. Elena found herself stepping in when discussions grew tense, offering solutions Adrian hadn't.
Laurent seemed impressed. Too impressed. His gaze lingered on her in ways that made her skin crawl.
At one point, he leaned closer. "You are wasted working for him. I could offer you more… freedom."
Adrian's hand stilled on his glass. His eyes cut toward them like blades.
Elena forced a polite smile. "Thank you, but I'm exactly where I need to be."
The rest of the evening passed in a blur, but tension simmered beneath the polished surface.
Back at the suite, Elena collapsed onto the couch, exhausted. Adrian tossed his jacket onto a chair, loosening his tie.
"You handled Laurent well," he said finally.
She raised a brow. "That sounded almost like a compliment."
"It wasn't." He poured himself a drink. "He's dangerous. Don't mistake his charm for kindness."
She sat up straighter. "You think I can't tell the difference?"
His eyes locked on hers, dark and steady. "I think you underestimate the risks of being close to men like us."
Her breath caught at the way he said us.
Before she could respond, the suite phone rang. Adrian answered, his voice sharp. After a moment, he hung up, his expression harder than stone.
"What is it?" Elena asked.
He met her eyes, every trace of composure stripped away.
"Laurent just tried to cancel the deal. And he wants to meet you—alone."
Elena's chest tightened. "Alone? Why?"
Adrian's jaw clenched. "Because he thinks you're leverage."
She swallowed, the reality sinking in.
For the first time, Adrian stepped closer—not with dominance, but with urgency. "Elena, this is dangerous. If you go to him, I can't guarantee your safety."
Her heart pounded. For the first time, she wasn't sure if his concern came from control… or something else entirely.