(Ariana's POV)
I never meant to want him.
From the moment my sister married Adrian Blackwood—the cold, impossibly handsome billionaire—I promised myself I would never look at him longer than necessary. He wasn't just forbidden; he was dangerous. A man who could destroy your self-control with a single look. A man who could ruin your sense of right and wrong simply by existing.
But life has a way of dragging you toward the exact place you swore you'd never step into.
And mine started unravelling the moment I arrived at Blackwood Mansion.
It was midnight. Rain hammered the rooftop like angry fingers. The staff had left for the night. And I—Jobless, broke, heartbruised—dragged my suitcase through the polished marble floor, dripping water and regret.
My sister Vanessa was travelling "for business," which I later learned meant "to get away from her failing marriage." She'd asked me to stay at the mansion "for a few days" because she didn't want the staff alone in the house.
What she really meant was:
Keep an eye on Adrian for me.
As if he were some wild wolf she'd accidentally married.
I hadn't even seen him yet. Not since the wedding two years ago.
And honestly? I prayed I wouldn't.
I didn't need the reminder of what perfection looked like.
I was already in my own personal crisis—losing my job, losing my apartment, and somehow losing myself somewhere in between.
I was halfway up the staircase when I felt it.
A presence behind me.
Heavy. Quiet. Watching.
I froze.
Then his voice slid through the darkness—deep, low, and smooth enough to melt bone.
"Ariana.
I shut my eyes.
Of course.
Of course, he would appear the moment I felt weakest.
I turned slowly.
There he stood at the bottom of the staircase, dressed in a black shirt with the top two buttons undone, his sleeves rolled up to reveal strong forearms. His hair was wet from the rain, pushed back messily, drops sliding down the sharp line of his jaw.
AdrianBlackwoodlooked like sin sculpted into human form.
And he was staring at me like he wasn't sure whether he should welcome me or push me out into the storm again.
"You're… back," I managed, my voice embarrassingly soft.
His eyes dragged over me—my soaked shirt clinging to my body, my trembling hands on the suitcase handle. His jaw flexed once.
"You're shivering," he said. "Why didn't you call? I would've sent the driver."
"I didn't want to disturb anyone."
"Disturb?" His voice deepened. "You walked into my house. You don't disturb me."
His house.
His presence.
His intensity.
It wrapped around me like a hot, suffocating fog.
I swallowed. "Vanessa said it was okay if I stayed here for a while."
His eyes darkened at her name.
"Yes," he said quietly. "She told me."
Something in his tone made my stomach knot. I didn't want to think about their marriage—it was none of my business. But the mansion felt wrong. Too empty. Too cold. Too… lonely.
He took a step up the stairs.
Another, Another.
And suddenly he was only a few steps below me, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from his rain-damp clothes.
His gaze didn't leave me for a second.
"How long will you be staying?" he asked.
"I… I don't know yet."
He hummed, a low sound that felt like it vibrated straight into my ribs.
"Good," he said.
Good?
Why good?
Before I could ask, thunder cracked outside, the lights flickered, and everything went black.
I gasped. Adrian didn't.
I felt a large, warm hand slide gently around my wrist.
"It's just the power," he murmured. "Stay still."
Stay still?
With him touching me?
He was out of his mind.
His fingers wrapped fully around my wrist, his thumb brushing my pulse—accidentally or intentionally, I couldn't tell.
The rain roared. The thunder growled. My heartbeat practically leapt against his hand.
"Your pulse is fast," he whispered.
I pulled back quickly. "Because it's… dark."
"It's not the darkness you're afraid of."
His voice was so soft I almost missed it.
The generator kicked in, lights humming back to life.
But he didn't move away.
If anything… he stepped closer.
I stumbled slightly, my back brushing the staircase railing. His eyes flickered downward, watching my breath catch. Watching me fall apart silently.
And then he said the one thing I least expected:
"Come with me."
I blinked. "What?"
"You're cold. Wet." His gaze travelled slowly down my damp clothes. "You'll get sick if you stay like this."
He didn't wait for my answer.
He turned, and I followed him before I could think.
Because that was the problem with Adrian Blackwood:
He didn't ask.
He commanded.
His presence filled the hallway as he walked, and I trailed behind him like gravity itself was pulling me. We entered the guest room—my assigned room—but he didn't stop at the door.
He walked inside.
I hesitated. "Um… Adrian—"
"Sit," he said softly, pointing to the edge of the bed.
I shouldn't have obeyed.
I did anyway.
He opened the wardrobe, pulled out a soft white towel, and walked toward me. Slow. Measured. Dangerous.
"Kneel," he said.
My breath hitched.
"N–No, you don't have to—"
He dropped to his knees in front of me before I could finish.
My heart stopped.
Adrian Blackwood—billionaire, aloof, untouchable Adrian—was kneeling on the floor. In front of me. Between my legs.
He lifted the towel, his fingers brushing my ankle.
I nearly jumped.
"Relax," he murmured.
Relax?
Relax?
With him touching me?
He gently lifted my foot, placing it on his thigh, and began drying the rainwater off my skin—slowly, carefully, like it mattered to him.
My breath stuttered.
He looked up at me while still holding my leg in his hands.
"Why didn't you tell me you were coming tonight?" he asked quietly.
"I didn't think you… cared."
Something flickered in his eyes—something sharp, intense, unsettling.
"I care," he said. "More than you know."
His voice wrapped around me, warm and dangerous. My entire body felt like it was caught in a trap.
He finished with my other foot, his fingers lingering just a little too long.
When he stood, he was close enough for our breaths to blend.
Rain pounded the windows. The room felt too hot. Too small. Too charged.
"Ariana," he said, my name falling from his lips like a confession.
"Yes?" I whispered.
He exhaled slowly, like he was fighting himself.
"I don't want you wandering this mansion alone at night. If you need anything… You come to me."
Come to him.
My heart pounded.
"I don't want to inconvenience you."
He stepped even closer.
"You couldn't inconvenience me even if you tried."
His hand rose halfway, like he wanted to tuck my wet hair behind my ear, then stopped.
He dropped it.
Barely.
Just barely.
I saw the moment he swallowed a desire he shouldn't have.
I shouldn't have felt it either.
But I did.
He backed up one step, only one, and the distance between us felt like a thread pulled tight, ready to snap.
"Goodnight, Ariana," he said softly.
Then he added, lower:
"Try not to think too much. This house… plays tricks on people at night."
He walked away, leaving me breathless, trembling, and unable to think about anything else except the truth I had been denying since the moment I saw him again:
I didn't just want Adrian Blackwood.
I was in danger of falling for him.
And I had no idea that this was only the beginning,
The first crack in a dam that would burst and drown my entire life.