Adrian's POV
I had been away longer than usual. Not because I wanted distance from the girl who now occupied my thoughts more than I cared to admit, but because business had demanded it. High-profile deals across multiple cities, contracts to finalize, executives to persuade—it was exhausting, meticulous work. Days bled into nights, and I found myself only sparing thoughts for the house and her in the smallest increments of time.
I had installed a CCTV system before leaving. Not out of suspicion, but curiosity. The quiet thrill of watching her move through the rooms, unaware of my eyes, became the highlight of my evenings. Every minute after the boardroom cleared and calls ended, I would retreat to my private study, screens glowing, watching her with detached fascination. The way she moved, the precision with which she handled her work, and the small unconscious gestures she made captivated me more than I expected.
When the last deal was signed and my presence was no longer required, I did something I never did. I took a full month off. My secretary had been stunned. Concerned, even. "Are you sure you're well, sir?" she had asked, the worry in her voice barely masked. I simply smiled, dismissing it as routine. "I have other matters to handle," I said, though she did not understand the meaning behind it.
And now I was here. Home. In the house that she had entered without realizing it belonged to me. I had decided, for no reason other than habit, to take a shower before seeing her.
I did not expect her to be there. Yet, when I stepped out of the bathroom, towel at my waist, she was exactly where I wanted her to be.
She hummed softly to the music playing through her headphones, a melodious sound that caught in my chest. Her hair was pulled into a loose bun, strands falling over her nape where a thin sheen of sweat traced the curve of her neck. She bent slightly over the bed, adjusting the sheets, unaware of me. I watched her for a long five minutes, almost forgetting to breathe, as she moved through her routine with quiet grace.
Then she turned around, noticing me, and she froze as if she had seen a ghost. It made me laugh on the inside. I didn't mean to startle her like that, but it wasn't my fault. Watching her gave me ecstasy, and I didn't want her to stop whatever she was doing.
I noticed the way her brows furrowed slightly, the moment she finally sensed me. Her lips parted as though she wanted to question my presence, and I imagined the words forming: Why are you here? Why didn't you tell me this was your house? I smiled faintly, knowing she was annoyed and frustrated. She had no choice but to continue working. Leaving now would be a breach of her contract. There was no going back, no retreat. I observed the way her hands tightened on the linens as she processed the realization.
Her gaze drifted down, unintentional, over my form. She could not help it. I felt it—the small, sharp awareness of being observed—and a surge of something potent ran through me. I had to anchor myself, remain calm, and allow her to move freely, to choose her own reaction.
She moved past me, careful and measured. Then a faint, irresistible scent reached me. Her perfume, subtle, mixed with the faint heat of exertion from her chores. I inhaled, savoring the delicate trace of her presence.
And then she stumbled.
It was partially my fault; the rug had shifted slightly under my foot when I had turned to reach for the towel. She had not seen it. She had not anticipated it.
She fell straight into my arms.
My hands pressed lightly at her waist, feeling the smallness of her body. Her chest brushed against me for a brief, impossible moment. I froze, not moving more than necessary, letting the contact exist just long enough to register without overstepping.
Her hands pressed against my chest, instinctive and flustered. I felt it—shivers down my spine, a stirring in parts of me that I normally kept under strict control. Heat pooled low and deep, but I clenched it back. I could not, would not, let her sense fear or discomfort.
She struggled hard to push herself off of me but I just needed five more seconds before letting her go.
The moment ended. She was free. She moved back, flushed and tense, her determination not to show weakness intact. I allowed myself a faint, private smile.
I straightened the towel around my waist, composed myself, and let the scene settle in my mind. She was cautious, wary, but entirely present in my space now. That awareness, the subtle energy between us, would linger far longer than the brief touch.
Even now, as she moved to continue her work, I felt the imprint of her presence on me, on my mind. Her hair, loose at the nape of her neck, the soft hum she made without realizing it, the warmth of her skin pressed briefly to mine—all of it played through my thoughts. I had always been disciplined, controlled, unshakable. And yet, she had managed to unsettle me entirely, without a word or a single deliberate action.
I straightened the rug, careful now not to give her another stumble, and watched her from the doorway for a few more seconds, storing the memory. She did not notice me. She moved through the space with diligence, humming quietly, unaware of the tension lingering in the air. I was aware, too aware, of every line of her body, every shift of movement, every breath that passed through the room.
I let out a quiet breath I did not realize I had been holding. Today was only the beginning. There would be time to observe, to wait, and perhaps, in time, to draw her closer without frightening her away. For now, I would savor the impression she had left, the subtle charge in the air, and the knowledge that she was entirely mine to notice, if I wished.