Elena's POV
There are days that just crumble on you — piece by piece, moment by moment — until you're left wondering how you're still standing.
That day was one of them.
Everything went wrong.
The reports, the calls, the endless meetings that blurred into one another. I was late with a file, a client was rude, and Adrian — though not unkind — was colder than usual.
And I couldn't even blame him. He was buried in deadlines, storms of numbers and deals and people wanting pieces of him.
But by evening, something inside me gave up.
When the office finally emptied and the lights dimmed, I sat alone at my desk and just… couldn't anymore.
My hands were shaking. My chest felt tight.
I blinked once, twice — and suddenly, the tears were there. Quiet, unwanted, spilling before I could stop them.
I didn't even hear the door open.
Didn't notice his footsteps until I felt his presence — that stillness that always comes with him, filling the room like gravity.
"Elena," his voice came softly, too softly for him.
I wiped my face quickly, embarrassed. "I'm sorry, I just— it's been a long day. I'll finish up and—"
"Stop."
Just that one word. Firm, but gentle.
He walked toward me, each step unhurried, deliberate.
I kept my eyes on the floor because looking at him while crying felt like showing him too much.
But when he stopped right in front of me, I couldn't ignore him anymore.
"Look at me."
I did. Slowly.
His eyes weren't cold anymore. They were… warm, and strangely full of something I didn't recognize.
"You've been holding everything together all week," he said quietly. "You don't have to."
"I'm fine," I lied, voice cracking halfway.
He sighed — a sound that wasn't frustration but something softer, heavier.
And before I could say anything else, his hand reached out, resting lightly on my shoulder.
That was all it took.
The moment his hand touched me, I broke.
A sob slipped out — quiet, ungraceful, honest.
And then he did something I never, ever expected.
He pulled me into his arms.
Not hesitantly. Not politely.
He just… wrapped me against him like it was the most natural thing in the world.
I froze for half a second, too stunned to react. His suit felt cold at first — pressed fabric, clean lines — but beneath it, his body was warm, steady, safe.
He didn't say much. Just held me there, one hand on the back of my head, the other around my waist.
His heartbeat was strong under my ear.
"Don't cry, little one," he murmured, his voice a low whisper against my hair. "You did well."
Little one.
No one had ever called me that before.
And from anyone else, it would've sounded patronizing. But from him, it felt like a promise.
A strange, quiet way of saying I see you. You're safe now.
I wanted to tell him to let go.
But I didn't.
Because the truth was — I didn't want him to.
For a man who rules the world with power and precision, he held me like he was afraid I might break apart if he wasn't careful.
And for the first time, I realized something about Adrian Knight — something the world would never believe.
He wasn't heartless.
He was just guarded.
Too guarded.
But somewhere behind those walls, there was a man who could love deeply, if he ever allowed himself to.
When he finally pulled back, his hand lingered against my cheek, brushing away a tear with his thumb.
"Better?" he asked softly.
I nodded, even though my throat was too tight to speak.
He gave a faint smile — one of those rare, fleeting ones that feel like a secret — and whispered, "Good. Go home, Elena."
I should have listened. But when he walked out of the room, I stayed frozen in that same spot, still feeling the ghost of his arms around me.
And maybe it's crazy, but for the first time since I came to New York…
I didn't feel alone.