The conference room was stifling, not because of the crowd but because of them.
Daniel sat beside me, close enough that his sleeve brushed mine whenever he shifted in his chair. His easy warmth radiated like it always did — steady, reassuring, safe. I should have been grateful for it. I should have been focused on the presentation unfolding at the front of the room.
But then Adrian walked in.
The air shifted instantly. Conversations stuttered, chairs scraped as people straightened. His presence commanded the space without him having to say a word. Crisp suit, sharp eyes, and that cool composure that made everyone seem smaller in comparison.
Except me.
Because the moment his gaze found me, the mask cracked. Just for a second, something dark flickered in his eyes. Something possessive.
"Thank you for joining us, Mr. Blackwood," our editor-in-chief gushed, gesturing toward him. "It's an honor to have you here as we discuss the future of the company."
Future. My stomach sank. So it was true , Adrian wasn't just here by coincidence. He was involved.
Daniel leaned toward me, lowering his voice. "Did you know about this?" His breath tickled my ear, making me shiver for all the wrong reasons.
I shook my head quickly, whispering back, "No idea."
The small exchange was harmless, but Adrian's jaw tightened across the table. His eyes tracked the angle of Daniel's lean, the closeness of our shoulders. The room buzzed with talk of budgets and deadlines, but Adrian wasn't listening. Not to them, anyway. His attention was locked on us.
I felt it — the weight of his stare like heat against my skin. Every time Daniel shifted closer, every time he smiled at me, Adrian's gaze burned hotter.
At one point, Daniel nudged a notepad toward me, his handwriting scrawled in the corner: You okay?
I smiled faintly and scribbled back: I'm fine. Just tired.
When I glanced up, Adrian's eyes were on the paper. Not the words — but the fact that we were sharing them. His hand, resting casually on the polished table, curled into a fist.
Someone cracked a joke at the front, and the room laughed. Daniel joined in, his arm brushing mine again, familiar and easy. I laughed too, though it came out hollow. Because across the table, Adrian wasn't laughing.
He was watching. Waiting.
And in his gaze, a silent promise: He won't have you. Not while I'm here.
---
Chapter eight: Unspoken Recognition
The meeting ended, but the storm it left behind lingered long after.
People filed out with chatter and laughter, Daniel included, still talking to a colleague across the room. I rose slowly, gathering my notes, trying to shake the weight of Adrian's stare that had followed me all through the discussion.
When I looked up, he was still there.
The others were leaving, but Adrian hadn't moved. He stood near the window, the evening light catching in his dark eyes, making them glint like steel. For a heartbeat, they softened — not cold, not sharp, but achingly familiar.
I froze.
It was the way he looked at me. Not with lust. Not with control. But with something rawer, deeper. As if he knew me.
A flicker of memory tugged at the edge of my mind — shadows of a place I'd buried, voices I'd forced myself to forget. But before I could grasp it, Daniel's voice broke through.
"Elena?" He touched my arm lightly, grounding me. "You coming?"
I blinked, torn back to the present. "Y-yeah." My voice cracked.
Daniel smiled gently, guiding me toward the door. His touch was careful, warm — everything Adrian's wasn't. Yet it was Adrian I felt behind me, his gaze heavy, burning.
I risked one more glance.
Adrian's eyes were still locked on me, filled with something I couldn't name. Longing. Pain. Love. He didn't say a word, but his jaw clenched, his hand tightening into a fist at his side as Daniel's hand remained on my arm.
He knew me.
And whatever that meant, it made him dangerous in a way that both terrified me… and pulled me closer.