CHAPTER EIGHT — ECHOES IN THE DARK
Naomi woke to silence.
Soft morning light filtered through the large window, casting pale gold across the room. For a moment she didn't remember where she was. The soft sheets. The warm blanket. The faint scent of cedar in the air.
Then everything slammed back into her chest.
The contract.
Adrian.
The marriage.
This penthouse.
Her new life.
Naomi sat up slowly, rubbing her forehead. The bed felt too big, too soft, too luxurious for someone like her. She had never slept in a place so quiet, so untouched by chaos.
But the silence didn't comfort her. It only reminded her how far she had stepped from the world she once knew.
Her eyes roamed the room. It was spotless. Not a thing out of place. The wardrobe doors were slightly ajar, revealing neatly arranged clothes. Her clothes. Folded and organized like someone had been preparing for her arrival long before she ever agreed.
A chill ran through her.
How much had Adrian planned?
A knock interrupted her thoughts.
"Naomi?" Adrian's voice. Calm. Controlled. "Are you awake?"
She swallowed. "Y-yes."
The door opened only halfway. He didn't enter. He stood at the threshold, still in his tailored shirt from last night, sleeves rolled up, hair slightly undone as though he hadn't slept at all.
"Good morning," he said.
Naomi blinked. "Did you sleep?"
His expression didn't change. "I rested enough."
Which meant no, he didn't.
A strange warmth flickered in her chest before she pushed it down. She shouldn't feel anything for him. This wasn't love. This was survival.
"I had breakfast prepared for you," Adrian said. "You should eat before we meet the lawyers."
Her heart jumped. "L-lawyers?"
"It's standard procedure," he explained. "We need the marriage filed immediately. My grandfather's board meeting is next week. The sooner your place is confirmed, the better."
Naomi nodded slowly, though her hands trembled under the blanket.
"Come downstairs when you're ready," he said, then paused. "And Naomi—"
She looked up.
"There's no rush. Take your time."
He closed the door gently.
Naomi let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. Everything about him—his discipline, his emotional distance, his sudden protectiveness—confused her. He wasn't cruel. But he wasn't gentle either. He existed in some in-between place she couldn't define.
She dressed quickly and stepped out into the hallway.
The penthouse felt different in daylight—less intimidating, more serene. She followed the scent of warm food into the dining area.
There, waiting for her, was a breakfast spread fit for royalty. Fresh fruit. Eggs. Toast. Tea. And standing beside the table, leaning casually against the counter, was Adrian.
He lifted his gaze. "You didn't have to rush."
Naomi hesitated. "You said we have to meet your lawyers today."
"We do. But not before you eat."
He motioned for her to sit.
She did, awkwardly, feeling out of place. Adrian sat across from her, watching without staring, studying without prying.
She picked up a fork. Her hands trembled ever so slightly.
His voice broke the silence. "You're nervous."
"You make it sound like a crime."
"It's not," he said simply. "But you don't have to be afraid in this house."
Naomi swallowed. "That's easy for you to say. Everything here belongs to you."
He held her gaze. "Not everything."
Her heart skipped.
She quickly looked away.
After several minutes of silence, Adrian checked his watch. "Our appointment is in two hours. We'll finish the paperwork. Then…" He paused, studying her closely. "We'll see my grandfather."
Naomi's appetite vanished. "Your grandfather? Today?"
His voice softened, just slightly. "He'll want to know who my wife is."
"I'm not your wife yet," she whispered.
"You will be."
Her pulse quickened.
She stared at her plate. "Adrian… your family will hate me."
"They already hate everyone," he said dryly. "You'll fit in better than you think."
Naomi almost laughed, but it died in her throat.
"Eat," he said gently. "I'll explain everything on the way."
She forced herself to take a bite. The moment she did, Adrian leaned back in his chair, watching her with an unreadable expression.
Naomi gathered her courage. "Adrian… may I ask you something?"
"Yes."
"Why did you stay last night? You could've left once I fell asleep."
He didn't answer immediately.
Finally, he said, "Because you looked like someone who hasn't slept safely in years."
Her breath caught.
"And someone should have stayed," he added.
"Why you?" she whispered.
His eyes darkened slightly. "Because you're under my protection now. Until that contract ends… nothing gets close to you."
Her hands tightened around the fork. "You speak like I'm in danger."
"You are," he said without hesitation. "Something is haunting you. I see it in your eyes."
She froze.
"And when you're ready," he continued, "you'll tell me what it is."
Naomi pushed her plate away slightly. "Adrian… I don't want you involved."
"You already involved me," he said quietly. "The moment you walked into that office."
Naomi's heart pounded painfully. "I didn't ask you to save me."
"No," he agreed. "But I will anyway."
The tension between them thickened, heavy and electric.
Suddenly—
BANG.
A loud knock slammed against the penthouse door.
Naomi jolted. Adrian straightened instantly, his expression turning cold, sharp, dangerous. The air around him shifted—no longer calm, but on alert.
"Stay here," he said firmly.
Naomi froze.
He walked toward the door with long, steady steps.
Her breath stopped.
He opened it.
Standing outside was a man in a dark suit, holding a file.
"Mr. Cross," the man said, bowing slightly. "Your request has been completed. We retrieved everything from Miss Barrett's old apartment."
Naomi's stomach dropped.
Everything?
"Did anyone follow you?" Adrian asked.
"No, sir."
"Good." Adrian took the file. "Leave it."
The man nodded and left.
Adrian closed the door and turned back to Naomi.
She was trembling before she even understood why.
The file in his hand…
was the same brand used by the people she was running from.
Her blood turned cold.
Adrian studied her reaction carefully. "What's wrong?"
Naomi's eyes locked onto the file.
She shook her head slowly.
"No… no, no, no… they can't know… they can't—"
Adrian stepped toward her. "Naomi. Look at me."
She couldn't. Fear consumed her.
He placed the file on the table, gently but firmly, and lifted her chin so she had no choice but to meet his eyes.
"You're safe," he said, his tone low and absolute. "As long as you're here, no one lays a hand on you."
Tears filled her eyes—silent, uncontrollable.
He didn't pull away.
He didn't look confused or angry.
He looked like a man who had made a promise he intended to keep.
"All you have to do," Adrian said softly, "is trust me."
Her lips parted, a breathless whisper escaping.
"I'm trying."
"And I can work with that," he said.
He wiped a tear from her cheek with his thumb—slow, careful, almost tender.
"Finish your breakfast," he murmured. "We leave in forty minutes."
Naomi nodded shakily, her heart pounding too loud.
Adrian walked away, but not far. He stood at the window, watching the skyline with a protective stillness she didn't know how to understand.
Naomi stared at the file on the table.
Her past was catching up.
Her secrets were closing in.
And she was now tied to a man powerful enough to face them—
or be destroyed by them.
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END OF CHAPTER EIGHT