The car hummed softly, rain whispering against the windows, as Valeria slumped against the leather seat, drenched to the bone. Her coat, soaked through, clung to her like a second skin. Every subtle curve of her body was outlined beneath the wet fabric slender shoulders, the gentle swell of her chest, the line of her waist, the soft curve of her hips. Even in her unconscious state, she radiated vulnerability and something impossibly alluring.
Leonard glanced at her uneasily, unsure how to act. "Miss Valeria," he murmured. "Are you alright?"
No response. Her eyelids fluttered, then closed completely. She had passed out. Leonard cursed quietly under his breath, picking up his phone.
"Sir… she's fainted. Exhaustion, I think. What should I do?"
Adrian's voice cut through the hum of the rain, smooth, sharp, and utterly in control.
"Bring her here."
By the time they reached the penthouse, the rain had softened into a mist. Leonard moved quickly, carrying Valeria like she weighed nothing, though the cold dampness of her coat and hair left tiny puddles on the marble floor. Adrian stood near the window, silhouette precise, the city lights reflecting off the glass like shards of ice.
Leonard laid her on the couch. Lamplight caught her damp hair, her pale, shivering shoulders, and the wet dress that clung to every line of her body. Adrian's pulse hitched the instant he took it in.
He approached instinctively, hands reaching for the coat to remove it, to offer warmth. But the moment his fingers brushed the fabric, heat surged through him in a way he had never known. The dress beneath hugged her curves perfectly the swell of her chest, the narrowing of her waist, the gentle slope of her hips and for a fraction of a second, he forgot himself entirely.
He froze, hand suspended mid-air, breath catching in his throat. Never, in his entire life, had he felt this way about a woman. Not desire alone, not simple attraction but a dizzying, uncontainable mix of fascination, shock, and an instinct to protect that almost collided with something far more dangerous.
"I… what…" he whispered to himself, the words lost in the quiet room. His jaw tightened, hands trembling slightly, as if he were both aware and terrified of the heat racing through him. He looked away quickly, forcing himself to remember the line between protection and temptation.
"Leonard," he said finally, voice low, hoarse with something he refused to name. "Send someone. A woman. She needs dry clothes. Now."
"Yes, sir," Leonard replied, voice tight with unspoken tension. He moved quickly, leaving Adrian alone with his thoughts.
Adrian exhaled slowly, his back to the couch now, eyes fixed on the window. But even turned away, he could feel the pull of her presence the damp dress, the soft lines of her body, the delicate pink of her lips, parted slightly as she murmured in sleep. He pressed a hand to his chest, as if it were a physical struggle to contain the rising storm of sensation and confusion.
He had never experienced anything like this. Not with the women of power he'd entertained, not with the fleeting flings of lust he had indulged in behind closed doors never with anyone. Valeria, unconscious and vulnerable, had unraveled something in him he couldn't name, and the realization both frightened and exhilarated him.
He crouched slightly, just enough to see her face illuminated by the warm lamplight, to see the flutter of her lashes and the faint tension in her fingers clutching the wet coat. His lips parted slightly, almost unconsciously, as he whispered under his breath:
"I've never… I've never felt like this with anyone."
The words, though silent, echoed in the room like a confession. The air itself seemed charged heavy with desire restrained, with fascination forbidden, with a heat that refused to be ignored. He straightened slowly, loosening his cuffs, fingers brushing against the marble as if the touch grounded him.
Outside, the rain had returned, soft and insistent. Inside, the tension coiled tight electric, raw, undeniable. Every instinct screamed to lean closer, to bridge the forbidden gap between them, yet professionalism, pride, and restraint held him back.
Leonard returned with arrangements, a quiet presence at the door, but Adrian barely noticed. His eyes remained fixed on her, tracing the curve of her cheek, the soft parting of her lips, the way the wet dress clung to her body, and the subtle rise and fall of her chest in sleep.
Even as he obeyed every rule of decorum, the shock of how she made him feel lingered, a delicious, impossible ache he could neither dismiss nor embrace.
For the first time in years, Adrian De Vere Leone sharp, commanding, untouchable had been confronted with a sensation he couldn't control. A woman had stirred something inside him he didn't even know existed, and the thought left him trembling in the quiet of the penthouse, watching, fascinated, utterly captivated, and entirely human.
Somewhere far away, Chantel smiled at her reflection, smug in her small victories. Yet fate unpredictable, patient, and relentless had other plans. That night, the city slept under rain, but in one penthouse, something hotter than the storm outside was quietly igniting.