Chapter 15

Anna's POV

Another knock, more insistent this time. I opened the door to find Adrian—Mr. Salvatore—standing there, his tall frame filling the doorway. He held an elegant gift bag in one hand, and even in casual attire, he exuded that effortless authority that made my heart skip.

"Welcome to your new residence, Ms. Rose." His voice was carefully neutral, professional, but something flickered in his eyes as they met mine.

"Mr. Salvatore," I managed, suddenly very aware that I was wearing yoga pants and an oversized Berkeley sweatshirt. "This is unexpected."

He held out the gift bag. "A housewarming tradition. I trust you'll find it useful."

Inside, I glimpsed an expensive bottle of Italian wine and what looked like premium coffee beans from La Colombe. The thoughtfulness of the gesture made my chest tight.

"This is too generous," I started, but he waved off my protest.

"Proper coffee is essential for maintaining our morning schedule," he said, his tone lighter. "Consider it a practical investment."

"Anna?" Faith's voice carried from inside. "Who are you talking to?"

Something shifted in Adrian's expression—a barely perceptible tightening around his eyes. "I won't keep you from your guest." He stepped back, maintaining that careful professional distance. "Goodnight, Ms. Rose."

"Goodnight, Mr. Salvatore." I watched him disappear down the hallway, his steps echoing in the quiet building.

"Was that him?" Faith appeared beside me, peering down the now-empty corridor. "Girl, he came by at midnight to bring you wine?"

"It's just a professional courtesy," I insisted, but my cheeks felt warm.

Faith raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying my explanation. "Sure, professional courtesy. And I'm the Queen of England."

I rolled my eyes and led her back into the kitchen, trying to shake off the lingering effect of Adrian's visit.

"Okay, stop it," I insisted, but my cheeks felt warm. "Help me unpack the kitchen?"

After the drama with Zack, the week settled into a surprisingly peaceful routine. No more suspicious figures, no more torn blazers—just normal workdays with meetings, spreadsheets, and occasional glances across the office. The routine felt almost... comfortable.

That Saturday afternoon found me in a small convenience store, staring at a display of lottery tickets. The week's events—from terrifying to tranquil—felt surreal enough that trying my luck seemed appropriate.

"What's your poison?" The clerk grinned. "Powerball? Mega Millions?"

"Just a scratch card," I decided. "Something simple."

Ten minutes and some vigorous scratching later, I stared in disbelief at a thousand-dollar winning ticket.

"No way," I whispered, double-checking the numbers.

"Congratulations!" The clerk beamed. "Lucky day!"

Walking out with the cash felt surreal. My phone buzzed with a text from Mom: "How's the new place?"

I smiled, typing back: "Perfect. Faith helped organize everything."

The money felt like a sign—a chance to properly thank Adrian for his help with the Zack situation and the apartment. But what do you get for a billionaire CEO who has everything?

After three hours and countless stores, I finally found it: a midnight blue silk tie that matched the exact color of his eyes. As I ran my fingers over the smooth silk, I imagined how it would look against his crisp white shirts, perfectly knotted at his throat, drawing attention to his strong jawline.

Would the silk feel as smooth against bare skin as it did beneath my fingertips? I could almost see him loosening it after a long day, revealing the hollow of his throat inch by inch. The memory of his cologne, spicy and masculine, flooded my senses. Heat rushed through me as I remembered how those hands had roamed my body that night, how his mouth had traced paths over my skin, igniting every nerve, making me gasp and moan with desire—

"Miss? Did you want the monogramming?"

The saleswoman's voice snapped me back to reality. I felt my cheeks flush hot as I realized where my thoughts had wandered.

"Yes, please," I managed, trying to sound professional. "Just 'A.S.' here, in silver thread."

With the order placed and delivery arranged, I headed to the grocery store.

The new apartment still felt a bit empty, and baking always made spaces feel more like home. Besides, I needed something to keep my hands busy—and my mind off of certain inappropriate thoughts. Mom's cookie recipe would be perfect for a quiet weekend of settling in.

The familiar ritual of measuring ingredients and creaming butter would help ground me in this unfamiliar space. Faith had done wonders with the decor, but there was something about filling a home with the scent of fresh-baked cookies that no interior designer could replicate.

\---

Monday morning arrived with its usual predawn chill. I balanced the fresh cookies and my work bag as I entered the familiar security code at Adrian's Pacific Heights residence.

"Morning, Ms. Rose," Winston greeted me with a knowing smile. "You know, over the weekend without you around, Mr. Salvatore's morning mood was... let's just say, not the best."

Before I could respond, Adrian stepped out of his office, already dressed in a sharp suit. He looked completely different from his usual groggy self.

"Mr. Salvatore," I said, trying to hide my surprise. "You're up early."

"Seems that way," he replied, his eyes catching sight of the container in my hands. "What's that you've got there?"

"Oh!" I perked up. "It's my mom's special recipe—"

Winston smoothly intercepted the container before I could offer it to Adrian. My heart sank as I suddenly remembered Charles's comment about Adrian's aversion to sweets.

"I'm so sorry," I blurted out. "I completely forgot you don't—"

"It's fine." Adrian's hand had started to reach out but quickly withdrew. He ran his fingers through his hair, a rare gesture of discomfort. "The thought is... appreciated."

I shrugged and picked up a cookie, biting into the still-warm treat. "More for me then," I said cheerfully, trying to lighten the mood. "I was up late baking these to keep myself busy in the new place."

Winston's eyes lit up as he tried one. "Ms. Rose, these are exceptional. Your mother's recipe, you said?"

"Mhm," I nodded, reaching for another. "She always says baking is the best way to make a new place feel like home."

I caught Adrian watching me as I enjoyed the cookies, something unreadable flickering in his expression.

"The morning schedule, Ms. Rose?" His voice brought us back to familiar territory, though I could have sworn I saw his eyes linger on the cookies one last time.