The elevator doors slid open with a soft ding, but neither of them moved.
Elena stood frozen, her pulse drumming in her throat, and Adrian—God, Adrian looked like he was seconds away from losing the mask he'd spent his whole life perfecting.
"Get in," he said quietly.
It wasn't a request.
She stepped inside, every muscle tight with unspoken words. The doors closed behind them with a hiss, sealing them away from the rest of the world.
For a few seconds, silence. Just the soft hum of the elevator.
Then—
"What the hell was that back there?" she snapped. Her voice trembled, not with fear but with pent-up emotion. "You just declared ownership of me in front of the board!"
He turned to her, eyes glinting under the soft elevator light. "I defended you."
"By holding my hand like I'm a trophy?" she shot back. "By staking your claim like—like—"
"Like what?" he bit out, taking a step closer.
Her breath hitched. "Like I belong to you."
"You don't?" His voice was rough now, lower, dangerous.
She stared, stunned. "You don't get to say things like that."
He stepped closer again, the distance between them shrinking until she could feel his breath ghost across her cheek. "Then tell me to stop."
Her lips parted, but no sound came out.
"Tell me to stop looking at you the way I do," he murmured. "Tell me to stop caring when someone talks down to you. Tell me to stop—"
"Stop!" she burst out, shoving at his chest. "You're my boss, Adrian! Not my—"
"Not your what?" he demanded. "Not your husband? Not the man you wake up thinking about?"
She froze. His words hit too close.
He saw it—he felt it. The flicker of truth in her eyes.
"Don't," she whispered. "Don't twist this."
"Twist?" he repeated, his laugh harsh. "You think this is twisted? You think I planned any of this?"
He paced a few steps away, dragging a hand through his hair, frustration radiating off him in waves. "You were supposed to be temporary. A shield. A name on paper to fix a mistake I didn't even make. And yet—"
He turned back to her, voice cracking slightly. "—you walk into a room, and I forget what I'm saying."
Elena's heart clenched. "Adrian…"
He looked wrecked—beautifully, dangerously wrecked.
"You have no idea what you do to me," he said, stepping close again, his tone rougher now, shaking. "Every time you look at me like that—like you want to hate me but can't—it drives me insane."
Her back hit the elevator wall. She hadn't realized she'd been moving backward.
"Stop," she whispered again, but this time it was weaker.
He braced a hand beside her head, caging her in. "Say it like you mean it."
"Adrian…"
Her voice broke.
He leaned closer, close enough for her perfume to wrap around him, close enough for her heartbeat to sync with his. "You think I don't see it?" he murmured. "The way you breathe when I'm near. The way your pulse jumps when I say your name."
She swallowed hard, every word unraveling her. "You don't know what you're talking about."
His lips tilted into a dangerous smirk. "Then prove me wrong."
"How?"
"Tell me you feel nothing."
She hesitated. Too long.
Adrian's expression darkened—jealousy flickering in his eyes like a spark. "Or is there someone else?" he asked suddenly, voice sharp. "Is that why you pull away every time I get close?"
"What?" she blinked, caught off guard.
"Do you want them to see you like this?" he continued, his jealousy cutting through the air. "Do you let him look at you the way I do?"
Her eyes widened. "There's no him—"
"Don't lie to me."
"Why would I?" she snapped. "You're the one who's been pretending this is all business!"
Adrian's jaw clenched. "Because it had to be."
"Then keep it that way," she whispered.
Something in him broke.
He slammed his palm against the wall beside her, and she flinched—not from fear, but from the sudden closeness that stole her breath. His chest brushed hers; their faces inches apart.
"You think I can?" he breathed. "You think I can look at you every damn day and not want—"
He cut himself off, breathing ragged.
The air thickened between them.
The elevator hummed softly as it ascended—mocking their silence, their restraint, the storm building in the inches between them.
"Say it," she whispered before she could stop herself.
He blinked, eyes burning. "Say what?"
"What you were going to say."
He stared at her, and for a long moment, he didn't move. Then, with a low, helpless sound—half laugh, half growl—he leaned in, his forehead resting against hers.
"I want you," he said hoarsely. "God help me, I want you more than I've ever wanted anything in my life."
Her heart stopped.
"Adrian…"
His fingers brushed her jaw, tracing the line of her face like he was memorizing it. "Tell me to stop," he whispered again.
She didn't.
For a heartbeat, it felt like gravity itself gave out.
He leaned closer—slowly, agonizingly slowly—until his breath fanned across her lips. The space between them was a whisper, a second, a single pulse.
Then the elevator dinged.
They froze.
The doors slid open to the 35th floor—an assistant standing there, holding a folder, eyes wide at the sight before her.
Adrian straightened immediately, stepping back, every trace of emotion wiped from his face. The cold CEO mask was back.
"Elena," he said quietly, his voice like ice. "Go back to your desk."
Her chest tightened. "Adrian—"
"That's an order."
The assistant quickly ducked her head, pretending not to notice as Elena brushed past, cheeks burning, heart in shambles.
She didn't look back.
Adrian stayed inside the elevator, watching her reflection in the closing doors.
When they finally shut, his jaw tightened. He exhaled shakily, pressing the heel of his hand against the wall as if trying to ground himself.
He'd almost kissed her.
Almost lost control completely.
And that terrified him more than anything Claudia—or the world—ever could.