I didn't expect to see him again so soon. The city was loud as ever—honking taxis, people rushing down the sidewalks, the smell of roasted peanuts from a street cart mixing with exhaust. I was walking to the subway, hoodie up, bag tight against my side, pretending I wasn't paying attention.
But I saw him before he saw me.
He was leaning against the corner of a building, talking on his phone, his presence commanding even while distracted. Dark suit, perfectly tailored, shoes that made him look taller than he already was. I froze for a second—not out of fear exactly, but because I had no idea how to react.
Then his eyes found mine. Just like that. It was like someone had flipped a switch, and the world shrank to the space between us.
He didn't smile. He didn't acknowledge me with words. He just looked, sharp and cold, the kind of look that could make anyone second-guess themselves.
I forced myself to keep walking. Head down, shoulders straight. Didn't flinch. Didn't let him see the effect he had. I'd learned long ago that appearances mattered more than feelings.
"You're persistent," he said suddenly, his voice low and deliberate. I jumped slightly, realizing he had somehow caught up. The street noises didn't matter anymore; it was just him and that quiet menace in his tone.
"I'm not persistent," I said evenly, keeping my stride. "I'm just… walking."
His lips curved into a faint smirk, more predator than amused. "Walking into trouble, more like."
I didn't respond. Didn't need to. I had learned that arguing with men like him didn't work—they thrived on control, on watching reactions.
He fell into step beside me, close enough that I could feel the cold brush of his coat against my arm. I kept my pace, steady, not letting him set it. He could try, but I wouldn't give him that. Not yet.
"You work hard," he said after a moment. Flat, direct. Not a compliment, just a statement. "Even for someone like you."
I stiffened, glancing at him sideways. "For someone like me?"
"Someone who thinks the world owes her nothing," he said. "Who trades parts of herself for survival. I've met women like you. But not many survive without breaking."
I stopped for a second, meeting his gaze fully. "Maybe I like surviving," I said. "Maybe I'm better at it than you think."
He chuckled, low and dangerous, like he was amused by my defiance. "We'll see," he said. Then, just like that, he turned and walked into a nearby building. A bank, maybe. I didn't look back.
My heart was racing, more from the encounter than I wanted to admit. I hated him. I hated that he unnerved me, that he could be so controlling without touching me, without even raising his voice. I hated that he could make me feel something I didn't want to feel.
I kept walking, trying to shake the tension, the way my palms tingled even now. Survival had always been my mantra. Keep your head down, do your work, don't let anyone in. But he… he was different. He didn't just enter a room; he commanded it. Didn't just touch; he left marks on your mind.
Back on the subway, I sat against the wall, watching the city blur past. The train rattled, people talking, kids laughing, coffee cups shaking in their holders. Normal life. Safe life. I wanted that.
But Adrian Cole wasn't normal. And for the first time, I realized maybe I wasn't entirely safe either. Not with him around