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Chapter 5 - CHAPTER FIVE- FIRE AND ICE

The limousine ride home from the gala was suffocating.

‎Sophia sat rigidly against her corner, her arms folded across her chest, her jaw tight. The glitter of the ballroom still clung to her skin, but inside, she felt nothing but exhaustion and fury.

‎Adrian, across from her, was silent — brooding, unreadable. His tuxedo was immaculate, not a hair out of place. He didn't fidget, didn't slouch. He sat like a king returning from battle, sure of his victory.

‎It infuriated her.

‎"You enjoyed that, didn't you?" she snapped finally, breaking the silence.

‎Adrian lifted his gaze lazily. "Enjoyed what?"

‎"Parading me around. Watching me smile when I wanted to scream. Treating me like a puppet on a string."

‎He leaned forward slightly, his voice soft but edged with steel. "I don't need a puppet, Sophia. I need a partner who understands the stakes."

‎Her laugh was bitter. "Partner? Don't insult me. You don't see me as an equal. You see me as a prop. A convenient ornament to make you look good."

‎For a moment, his eyes burned, darker than she'd ever seen them. "Careful."

‎"Or what?" she challenged, leaning forward herself, her breath shaking. "You'll what, Adrian? Remind me of the contract I was desperate enough to sign? Threaten to throw me back into the gutter where you found me?"

‎The car slowed into the driveway of the mansion. The tension between them was electric, thick as smoke.

‎Adrian didn't answer. He simply opened the door and stepped out, his silence louder than any words.

‎Sophia followed, her heels clicking angrily on the marble foyer once they entered.

‎---

The Confrontation

‎"Don't walk away from me," she snapped as he shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it onto a chair.

‎He turned, his eyes sharp. "You don't command me, Sophia."

‎"Someone should," she shot back. "Because God forbid Adrian Blackwood ever be told he's wrong."

‎His jaw flexed. "You think this life is easy? You think you know anything about the pressure, the board breathing down my neck, the vultures waiting for one misstep? You think I wanted to bind myself to a woman who despises me?"

‎Her breath hitched, but she didn't back down. "You didn't bind yourself to me. You trapped me. You saw a desperate girl and used her misery to your advantage."

‎That struck deep. His gaze flickered, for just a second, with something almost like regret. But then it hardened again.

‎"I gave you a choice," he said.

‎"No," she whispered fiercely. "You gave me chains. Don't pretend otherwise."

‎Silence. Their breathing filled the vast space between them.

‎Adrian moved first, stepping closer until their faces were inches apart. "You want independence. I want control. Fire and ice. Oil and water. But tell me, Sophia—" His voice dropped lower, rougher. "Why is it that every time you fight me, I want you more?"

‎Her heart slammed in her chest. She hated him. She hated his arrogance, his power, the way he twisted every word. And yet—

‎Her body betrayed her. Heat spread through her, her lips parted, her pulse wild.

‎She whispered, "Because you're used to winning."

‎"And you're used to running," he countered.

‎Neither of them moved back. The air snapped between them, too tight, too charged.

‎And then he kissed her.

‎---

The First Night Of Passion

‎It wasn't gentle. It wasn't sweet. It was fire meeting ice, a collision of fury and desire that neither could stop.

‎His mouth claimed hers, fierce, demanding. She gasped against him, her hands pushing at his chest — only to clutch at his shirt instead, dragging him closer.

‎"Adrian—" she started, but the word dissolved into a moan as his lips trailed down her throat.

‎Every thought of hatred blurred into sensation: the heat of his hands on her waist, the strength of his body pressed against hers, the shiver that raced down her spine as he whispered her name like a curse and a prayer all at once.

‎"You drive me insane," he growled against her skin.

‎"Good," she gasped, tilting her head back, surrendering to the moment. "Now you know how it feels."

‎Clothes scattered. The world disappeared. It was not love — not yet — but it was undeniable. Passion, wild and raw, tore down the walls they had built.

‎When it was over, Sophia lay breathless against him, her hair tangled, her chest rising and falling. She hated herself for it — hated that she had given in, that she had wanted it as much as he had.

‎Beside her, Adrian was silent, his expression unreadable.

‎The silence stretched until Sophia sat up, clutching the sheet to her chest.

‎"This changes nothing," she said quickly, her voice trembling. "I still despise you."

‎Adrian's lips curved faintly, though his eyes remained cold. "Good. Then we agree."

‎He stood, pulling on his trousers. He was halfway to the dresser when his phone buzzed.

‎Adrian glanced at the screen. Then his entire body stilled.

‎Sophia frowned. "What is it?"

‎His grip on the phone tightened, his knuckles white. For the first time since she had met him, she saw something crack in his perfect composure.

‎He turned the phone so she could see.

‎On the screen was a text message from an unknown number.

‎"We know who she is. We know what she did. She doesn't belong with you."

‎Sophia's blood ran cold. "What—what does that mean?"

‎Adrian's gaze lifted to hers, sharp, demanding. "You're going to tell me everything, Sophia. Right now."

‎Her heart thudded violently. Secrets she had buried, mistakes she thought she'd outrun, came rushing back to the surface.

‎And for the first time, she wasn't sure if Adrian was her captor—or the only one who could protect her.

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