Bella had never brought a stranger into her apartment before. Not a homeless beggar with a scruffy beard and eyes so black they devoured her whole.
Desperation made them all idiots.
The moment the door slammed shut, the silence of her small apartment descended on them, punctuated only by the soft patter of rain off their soaked clothes.
You tidy up," she said, trying to ignore the pounding of her heart in her chest.
Crimson said nothing, simply raised a black eyebrow, the corner of his mouth curling as though he was amused by the scenario. Reluctantly, he stripped off the wet layers, peeling them away from himself and dumping them down heavily on the floor.
She spun away from him, grabbing at a towel, but not quickly enough to avoid a glimpse of skin—lean, tattooed muscle, water droplets sparkling on ridged abs that appeared carved from sin. Her own breathing halted, heat climbing her cheeks and something further down, deeper, twisting in her belly.
Get a grip, God, Bella.
She tossed the towel over her shoulders at him, without turning back again, in case she looked and saw—and craved.
"I'll find you something to wear," she grumbled, burrowing through her ex's old clothes she'd never thrown away, trying to still her trembling hands. She could sense his gaze on the back of her head, heavy, questioning, amused.
When she turned around, he had the towel around his waist, his beard still hiding most of his face, but she could not help but note the strength in the lines of his body, the controlled dominance in the manner that he stood before her like he owned the room, despite the scars that creased his ribs and the shadows in his eyes.
Bella swallowed hard, shoving the clothes into his hands. "Here. Put those on."
Later that night
It was supposed to be simple.
A drink of thanks for helping her embarrass her ex. One turned into two. Two turned into a bottle. And before she could stop it, Bella was laughing, sitting against him on the couch and sharing cheap whiskey, his rough laugh vibrating on her shoulder.
She hadn't meant to let her gaze wander to the shirt pulled taut over his chest, hadn't meant to notice the flame in his eyes when she moistened a whiskey droplet on her lip.
Hadn't meant to want.
"You shouldn't look at me like that, bella," he breathed, his voice hard, black.
"Like what?" she panted, even as her body betrayed her, moving closer, hungry for heat, hungry to escape.
"Like you're starving," he growled.
And then his mouth was on hers.
The next morning
Bella woke with a headache pounding behind her eyes, the sheets tangled around her bare legs, the cold of the empty bed next to her a slap she wasn't ready for.
"Adrian?" she called out, her voice hoarse.
No answer.
She sat up, her memories from last night shattering over the top of her like broken pieces of glass—his mouth against her neck, his fingers into her hips, how he whispered her name like a prayer, a curse.
She pressed hands to her face, cheeks burning hot. God, what did I do?
And then she saw it.
A piece of paper on the pillow, written in a hard, elegant hand.
> Bella,
I'll return when I'm clean. Until then, wear this. It will protect you.
Adrian
Next to the note lay a ring. Heavy, cold, gold, with a crest she had seen in whispers on news articles and rumors in hushed voices.
The Crimson Empire.
Bella's hands shook as she picked it up. No. It couldn't be.
It had to be a joke.
Didn't it?
The ballroom
Bella pulled the dark green rented dress tight, the Crimson ring heavy on her finger as she ascended the glinting ballroom stairs of the Crimson Empire ball. Cameras snapped, the security guards, dressed in crisp black uniforms themselves, flanked the doorway, scanning names and checking invitations.
Her heart pounded. Why am I here? Why did I believe him?
"Bella Anderson," she said to the guard.
Before he was able to scan the list, a laugh more mocking than amused cut through the air.
"Well, well, well," her ex sneered, his mistress clinging to his arm in a red, figure-hugging dress. "Still chasing men in trying to salvage your pride, Bella? Or trying to seduce Crimson himself now?"
"Leave me alone, Eric," Bella growled, stepping back as the mistress rolled her eyes.
But Eric stood in her way, smirking. "You believe Crimson would waste his time with someone like you? Please."
The sound of an engine suddenly pierced through the din of the crowd.
A black, high-end sports car arrived, the kind one could only afford if they were a king. The doors opened, and the crowd held its collective breath as the man emerged.
Tall, smooth-shaven, and dark-haired, dressed in a sharp black suit that fit his broad shoulders, a black watch shining on his wrist. His hair slicked back, his eyes darting upwards as he fiddled with his cufflinks, his eyes roving, fixing on hers with an intensity that left her gasping.
Adrian?
He was beautiful. Lethal. Potent.
Nothing at all like the bearded guy she had pulled off the sidewalk.
For a moment, she didn't know him. This wasn't the fellow she'd dragged off the curb, inebriated on cheap whiskey, reeking of rain and desperation.
This was a man who looked as if he owned the darkness.
Eric's eyes opened wide, then narrowed into wicked laughter. "No way. You brought him?" he sneered at Bella, laughter bubbling in her mistress's throat.
Adrian's black eyes settled on Bella first, relaxing for a moment, then drifted to Eric, hard and unyielding.
"Bella," Adrian answered coldly, not even glancing at Eric, "are you ready to go in?"
The security guards stepped forward, cutting off Adrian's path.
"Sir, we need to check your invitation," one snapped, looking Adrian up and down, eyes flashing with incredulity. "And you, miss."
Adrian arched an eyebrow. "We're invited.".
Eric's laughter cut through the tension. "Oh, you rented a suit and a car to impress her, did you? You think you can just blow in here faking to be Crimson? Please. We spotted you on the street, man. Don't make a fool of yourself."
Adrian's jaw clenched with one muscle, but he did not move, his eyes hard as the guards shook their heads.
"No one gets in without clearance," the guard stated, stroking his earpiece with his hand.
Adrian pulled out his phone from his pocket, thumb tracing over the screen, expressionless face, almost bored.
"Wait here," he whispered to Bella, brushing aside Eric's smug grin as he and his mistress glided past them into the ballroom, their laughter dying beneath the chandeliers' sparkling lights.
Bella's face flamed as people whispered around them, guests watching the "street couple" get embarrassed at the doors. She clutched Adrian's arm, her voice shaking. "Maybe we should go—"
"No," Adrian whispered, shoving his phone into his pocket. "Wait."
Doors to the ballroom opened a moment later, and a man in a flawless navy suit stepped out, followed by two silent, towering men in black.
The man's sharp gaze scoured the entrance until it landed on Adrian. Relief and deference flashed in his eyes.
"Mr. Fox," Leo Grant Adrian's assistant said, bobbing his head. "We've been expecting you."
The guards blinked, stumbling, but Leo pulled out a thin black card and flashed it at them, their eyes widening as they read, panic flashing across their faces.
"S-sir, we're so sorry, we didn't know—"
"Open the doors," the assistant ordered.
The guards sprang to it, clearing a path as the assistant turned to Bella with a polite bow. "Miss Anderson, this way."
Bella stood immobile, her eyes blinking, her heart racing as Adrian captured her hand, dark eyes softening for her and her alone.
She allowed him to escort her by the guards who had so lately ridiculed him, ignoring the gasps as they strode into the grand ballroom side by side.
Inside the Ballroom
The ballroom gleamed with wealth and murmured power, but Bella could barely breathe as she entered beside Adrian.
He didn't flinch under the weight of the stares.
Didn't shy when whispers followed them like phantoms.
Didn't glance away when Eric and his mistress followed after them, grinning and chuckling softly.
Adrian's hand at the small of Bella's back was warm and unyielding, gripping her tightly through the throng as if it belonged to him, even though to the rest of the world, he was merely Adrian Fox, nobody in somebody else's money.
But why isn't he afraid here?
The chandeliers sparkled in his dark eyes, but they were still cold, running over the throng as though he was looking for something—or someone.
They reached the marble bar, Bella's clutch hand tightening as she forced herself to breathe. Adrian ordered a drink, his voice relaxed, his shoulders loose, but she sensed the tension in the way his jaw clenched while he surveyed the place.
"Looking for your next sugar mama, Fox?" Eric's voice cut through the music, the sneering amusement in his tone tying Bella's stomach in knots. "You do the role well, I'll say that. Nice suit, pretty car—what did you do? Beg someone to pay for you for the night?"
His mistress tittered, clinging to Eric's arm as they moved closer.
Adrian didn't even blink, accepting his drink from the bartender with a nod and taking a slow sip.
"You're pathetic," Eric continued, not even catching Bella's glare. "Trying to get her into your little daydream. Am I right? You expect Mr. Crimson to take a look at you and toss you a bone? A tip for services, maybe?
Bella's lips parted to tell Eric to be quiet, but Adrian finally turned, dark eyes hard and unbreakable as they met Eric's gaze.
"You talk too much," Adrian said in a low voice.
Eric's smile faltered for a moment before it returned, tougher. "And you think you're something now? You're nothing, man. Nothing."
Before Bella could intervene, a soft, measured voice spoke up.
"Mr. Fox."
They turned to see a man in a tailored charcoal suit, clean-cut with sharp brown eyes, dark hair slicked back, and a watch that probably cost more than Bella's apartment. He bowed his head respectfully to Adrian, ignoring the stunned silence around them.
Eric's brows shot up, confusion flickering in his eyes. "Wait… Leo Grant?" he stuttered, recognition dawning. "You're Leo Grant—Mr. Crimson's right-hand man…"
Leo Grant stood tall, his eyes piercing as they flashed to Eric with disdain before returning to Adrian.
"Your table is ready, Mr. Fox. Will you and your guest care to be taken there?"
Eric's lips opened and closed again in surprise, the reality smacking him. Leo Grant was renowned in every part of the city as Crimson's aide—off-limits, admired, feared. People would pay outrageous sums just to have Leo say a word to them.
And there he was, bowing his head in respect to a man whom they all took for granted to be a street beggar in a hired suit.
Eric's mistress shifted uncomfortably, looking from Adrian to a huffy Leo.
Eric's confusion twisted into a sneer. "Or maybe you're just some cheap con artist who managed to impress Leo Grant. What, you bribe him to pretend to be someone big for the night?
Leo's eyes blazed, but Adrian cut him off, raising a hand, halting him with a slight shake of his head.
Adrian faced Bella, his face relaxing for her alone. "Shall we, bella?"
Bella swallowed hard, her heart racing as she nodded, letting him take her hand. She caught the flash of Leo's eyes up to their joined hands, a gleam of respect there before he turned away, moving toward the sweeping staircase curving upwards to the private mezzanine.
Eric's voice boomed behind them, a strained, too loud laugh.
"Enjoy it while you can, Fox. Play pretend for an evening that you're somebody.".
Bella didn't look back, but she could feel Eric's eyes burning into her as Adrian's thumb brushed against her knuckles, grounding her.
They ascended the staircase, the music swelling below them, whispers trailing in their wake.
Bella leaned closer, her voice low as she whispered, "Who are you, really, Adrian?"
Adrian's lips curved into a small, unreadable smile.
"I'm just Adrian Fox.", he said softly
But his dark eyes said otherwise.
And Bella, in spite of all the confusion, could not help but observe how the world seemed to orbit around him, how Leo Grant—the shadow of Crimson—followed two steps behind Adrian Fox.