ADRIEN POV
The glass doors hissed open and the world exploded.
Cameras, flashes, shouts of my name—Adrien, Adrien, who's she, look here, kiss her, over here! I felt Nora stiffen beside me, her hand tense in mine. She didn't belong to this chaos, and it burned me to watch the storm swallow her whole.
I leaned down, my voice steady against the noise. "Don't look at them. Look at me."
Her wide eyes flicked up. Just like that, the noise dimmed. She clung tighter.
Security carved us a path, my driver pulling up with perfect timing. I guided her inside, shielding her as best I could, and slammed the door behind us.
Silence fell. Just the low hum of the engine. Nora's chest rose and fell like she'd run a marathon.
She turned on me, furious. "Was that your idea of a quiet dinner?"
I bit back a smile. "Hardly my idea. But you handled it."
"Handled it? Adrien, I'm going to be on the internet forever with my mouth open like a fish."
"You looked beautiful."
Her jaw tightened, ready with another retort—then froze. A flush crept up her throat, betraying her.
Good. I wanted to see her cracks. She'd seen mine already.
The car drove smooth through the night, Paris glowing golden beyond the tinted windows. But I wasn't ready to let her go. Not yet. "Come with me," I said.
Suspicion narrowed her eyes. "Come where?"
"My place. Just for a drink."
She scoffed. "Right. Because drinks are always just drinks."
I leaned back, letting her believe what she wanted. "If you're afraid—"
Her head snapped up. "I'm not afraid."
I hid my satisfaction as the driver turned toward the river.
The elevator opened into silence and glass. My penthouse stretched out before us, vast and gleaming. The Seine coiled below, the Eiffel Tower glittered in the distance, and every wall was a mirror of glass or marble. A fortress. A shrine. A cage.
Nora stepped inside slowly, her heels clicking against the stone floor. Her eyes were wide, though she tried to mask it.
"Of course," she muttered. "You live in a Bond villain lair."
I smirked. "Would you like the grand tour, or should I start with the champagne you hate?"
Her laugh slipped out before she could stop it, soft and unwilling. She drifted toward the windows, her reflection haloed in city light. For a moment, I didn't move. Just watched her.
Too beautiful. Too real. She didn't drape herself in diamonds or polish her smile for cameras. And yet, she eclipsed everyone I'd ever known.
I joined her by the glass, close enough to feel the warmth of her skin. She tensed, but didn't step away.
"Why me?" she asked quietly, eyes still on the skyline. "Out of all the women who'd kill for this view, why drag me into your mess?"
"Because," I said, my voice low, "you're the only one who doesn't want it."
She finally turned. And God help me, she was close—too close. Her lips parted, her breath brushing mine.
I lifted a hand, fingers grazing her jaw, testing. She didn't move. Her pulse beat fast beneath my touch.
"Adrien…" Her voice cracked, half-warning, half-plea.
My control thinned, my mouth lowering until the air between us burned. If I closed that final inch, nothing would be the same.
Her eyes flicked to my lips—then she stepped back.
"No," she whispered, shaking her head. "I can't."
The space between us turned sharp, like glass shattering.
I let my hand fall, forcing composure. "You can't, or you won't?"
Her chin lifted stubbornly. "Both."
I almost laughed. Almost. Instead, I let her have her victory. For now.
She turned away, busying herself with the shelves, the sterile perfection of the space. "This place doesn't even look lived in. Do you actually stay here, or is it just for show?"
"For show," I admitted. "Like everything else."
Her gaze flicked to me, something soft and dangerous in it. I poured her a glass of wine, though she hadn't asked, and set it in her hand.
As she sipped, her shoulders eased—just slightly.
But my mind replayed the way her breath had caught when I touched her, the way her eyes had betrayed her. She could deny it all she wanted.
This game was only just beginning.