The memory of the mysterious man's warning clung to Sophia like a shadow.
She told herself to forget him — that he was just some bitter rival trying to poison her against Adrian. But the words had been too sharp, too deliberate: Walk away now, before it destroys you.
And the worst part? A tiny, treacherous part of her believed him.
---
Adrian's Possessiveness
The next evening, Adrian returned earlier than usual. His mood was unreadable, his jaw tight, his eyes storm-dark.
"You've been quiet," he remarked as they sat down to dinner, his voice calm but laced with suspicion.
Sophia set down her fork. "Just tired."
Adrian leaned back, studying her. "Tired… or hiding something from me?"
Her pulse stuttered. Had he found out about the encounter in the gardens?
"I'm not hiding anything," she said carefully.
He leaned forward suddenly, his hand closing around hers with a force that was almost possessive. "You don't understand, Sophia. People in my world… they don't play fair. If anyone approaches you, if anyone speaks to you, you tell me immediately."
His intensity made her bristle. "I'm not a child, Adrian. I don't need a bodyguard following me around."
His gaze sharpened. "You may not want one, but you have one. Me. And I won't have you wandering into danger because of your pride."
The words were protective… but the way he said them, with a quiet ferocity that left no room for argument, made Sophia's chest tighten.
He wasn't just protecting her. He was claiming her.
---
A Dangerous Pull
Later that night, they ended up on the balcony together, the city lights glittering far below.
Sophia crossed her arms, staring at the skyline. "You don't get to control me, Adrian. This contract doesn't give you that right."
He stepped behind her, so close she could feel the heat radiating off him. "It gives me every right. I signed you into my life, Sophia. That means your safety is my responsibility."
She spun around, glaring. "No, it means I signed away my independence for convenience. Don't twist it into something else."
Adrian's lips curved into the faintest smirk. "And yet… here you are, arguing with me like you care what I feel. Tell me, Sophia. If it was just a contract, why does your voice shake when you say my name?"
Her breath caught. She hated how well he read her, how easily he peeled back her defenses.
"I don't—" she began, but the lie crumbled as his hand brushed her cheek, his touch infuriatingly gentle.
"You do," he murmured. "And that terrifies you more than anything else."
And then he kissed her.
This kiss was different. It wasn't about dominance or heat — though that was there, sparking like wildfire. It was about something rawer, something neither of them wanted to admit.
Sophia melted into it despite herself, her fingers clutching the lapel of his suit. Her body betrayed her resolve, aching for more, even as her mind screamed warnings.
When they finally pulled apart, her lips tingled, her heart hammering.
"Damn you," she whispered.
Adrian's eyes glinted in the dark. "You already are."
---
Falling Against Her Will
In the quiet that followed, Sophia couldn't stop thinking: Am I falling for him?
It felt impossible. He was arrogant, controlling, infuriating. He kept secrets and twisted the rules.
And yet… when he touched her, she felt alive. When he looked at her, it was as if he saw through every wall she had ever built.
She told herself it was just the contract. Just circumstance. Just proximity.
But the truth sat heavy in her chest: she was in danger of falling for Adrian Blackwood, contract or not.
---
The Break In
The next day, Sophia returned briefly to her old apartment. She told Adrian she needed to collect some personal things she had left behind.
He didn't like it. "You'll take one of my men with you."
"No," she insisted. "It's my apartment, not a war zone. I'll be fine."
His jaw tightened, but after a long silence, he relented — barely. "One hour. Call me when you arrive, and again when you leave. If you don't, I'll come find you."
His tone made it clear: it wasn't a threat. It was a promise.
Sophia rolled her eyes but agreed, needing just a sliver of space from his suffocating presence.
Her apartment felt smaller than she remembered. Dust clung to the corners, the air stale from weeks of disuse. She moved through the rooms, gathering a few clothes, old books, and framed photos she couldn't bring herself to abandon.
She was stuffing them into a bag when she heard it — the faint creak of a floorboard.
Her blood went cold.
Slowly, she turned.
The living room window was open, the curtains swaying in the night breeze. She knew she had locked it before.
Her pulse thundered. "Hello?" she called, her voice trembling.
Silence.
And then, from the shadows of the hallway, came the faint glint of metal. A knife.
Sophia's breath caught in her throat.
A figure stepped forward, masked, silent. He didn't attack, but the message was clear. He wanted her to see him. To know that her sanctuary had been violated.
Frozen in terror, Sophia backed against the wall, her phone fumbling from her hand. Before she could grab it, the man tilted his head, almost mocking — and then slipped back out the window with practiced ease.
She was left shaking, her lungs burning, her body rooted in fear.
It hadn't been a robbery. Nothing was taken.
It was a warning.
And deep down, she knew exactly who it was meant for.