Chapter 42 Chapter 42
I didn’t sleep that night.
Not because of fear—though there was some of that—but because my mind wouldn’t slow down. Adrian’s apartment was quiet in a way that felt intentional, like every sound had been disciplined into silence. The guest room he gave me was large, minimalist, impersonal. Safe.
Too safe.
I lay on my side, staring at the faint glow of the city through the window, one hand resting over my stomach. Twins. Every time I remembered, my chest tightened—not with panic, but with awe. They were here. With me. Unaware of the war brewing around us.
A soft knock sounded at the door.
I stiffened. “Come in.”
Adrian pushed the door open slowly, like he wasn’t sure whether he was welcome. He had changed out of his suit into a simple black shirt, sleeves rolled up. He looked… human. Less like a man carved from control.
“I couldn’t sleep either,” he said.
“Me neither.”
He hesitated, then leaned against the doorframe instead of coming in. “I wanted to check on you. That’s all.”
I studied him. “You don’t strike me as the type who checks in.”
A faint smile tugged at his mouth. “You’re changing my habits.”
That landed warmer than it should have.
“I keep thinking about the gala,” I admitted. “About how everyone looked at us. Like they were trying to solve a puzzle.”
“They were,” he said. “And they failed.”
I exhaled. “Daniel won’t.”
“No,” Adrian agreed. “He won’t.”
Silence stretched again, heavier now, charged with things we weren’t saying. I felt it—an invisible line between us, pulled tight.
“Why me?” I asked suddenly. “You could have destroyed Daniel without involving me.”
Adrian didn’t answer immediately. His gaze drifted to the window, then back to me. “Because this isn’t just business,” he said quietly. “And because you deserved a choice.”
My throat tightened. “I didn’t feel like I had one.”
“You do,” he said firmly. “You always will with me.”
That promise scared me more than his threats ever could.
He pushed off the doorframe and took a step closer—still careful, still restrained. “If at any point this becomes too much,” he said, “you walk away. No consequences.”
“And you?” I asked.
“I’ll handle the rest.”
I nodded slowly. “You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep.”
He met my eyes. “I never do.”
The room felt smaller. Warmer. I was suddenly aware of how close he was, of the way my pulse reacted to his presence in a way I hadn’t felt in years.
“This is dangerous,” I whispered.
“Yes.”
“And you’re not backing away.”
“No.”
Neither was I.
Adrian stopped just short of touching me, as if waiting—giving me space to decide. My heart hammered in my chest.
“This doesn’t change the rules,” I said.
“No,” he replied. “It complicates them.”
I let out a breath that sounded almost like a laugh. “You’re impossible.”
“So I’ve been told.”
For a moment, we just stood there, close enough to feel each other’s warmth, far enough to keep control intact. It wasn’t a kiss. It wasn’t even a touch.
But it felt like the start of something neither of us could undo.
“I should let you rest,” he said finally, voice low.
“Stay,” I said before I could stop myself.
He searched my face—not predatory, not eager. Careful. Intent. Then he nodded once.
He sat in the chair by the window, keeping his distance, keeping his word.
As the city lights flickered outside and my breathing finally slowed, one thought settled deep in my chest:
This wasn’t just revenge anymore.
It was the beginning of something neither Daniel nor Mandy saw coming.