Chapter 71

Anna's POV

The shrill ring of my phone pierced through the darkness, jolting me awake. 1:07 AM glowed on my bedside clock as I fumbled for the device, my heart already racing before I saw Charles's name on the screen.

"Ms. Rose, I apologize for calling so late." Charles's usually composed voice carried an edge I'd never heard before.

I sat up straight, sleep vanishing instantly. "Charles? What's wrong?"

"William asked me to contact you. Mr. Salvatore has been at the boxing ring for hours. He's... William can't control the situation anymore."

My throat tightened. "I'm on my way."

I threw on workout clothes and sneakers, my hands trembling slightly as I tied the laces. The night doorman's concerned "Everything alright, Ms. Rose?" barely registered as I rushed past him.

William's private gym occupied the top floor of a discrete building in Russian Hill. The elevator ride felt endless as my mind raced through possibilities. What could make Adrian lose control like this? The man who ruled board rooms with iron discipline, who never showed weakness...

The heavy doors opened to chaos. The first thing I saw was a heavyweight fighter sprawled on a bench, holding an ice pack to his jaw. Two more battered men nursed various injuries nearby. And in the ring  

My heart stopped.

Adrian's designer shirt hung in tatters, dark with sweat. Blood trickled from his split lip as he swayed on his feet, throwing wild punches at an increasingly worried opponent. His usual grace was gone, replaced by something raw and desperate.

"How long?" I demanded, hurrying to William's side.

"Hours." William's face was grim. "Since the Next Gen launch. He won't stop."

"Stop the fight!" I called to the referee, but Adrian didn't even seem to hear. He took another hit to the ribs, and I saw him stagger.

"Adrian!" The name tore from my throat before I could stop it.

He froze at my voice, turning slightly. Our eyes met across the ring, and in that moment of distraction, his opponent's right hook connected with his jaw. Adrian crumpled.

"I'm fine," he mumbled as William and Charles rushed to help him up. His attempt at a smile turned into a grimace.

"Get medical  " Charles started, but Adrian cut him off.

"Just need a shower." He pushed himself up, swaying slightly. "I'm fine."

Twenty minutes later, he emerged from the locker room in fresh clothes, but couldn't quite hide his wince as he straightened his jacket.

"I'm taking you home," he announced, his voice rough.

"You can barely stand," I protested, but he was already moving toward the exit.

Charles somehow maneuvered things so I ended up in the back seat beside Adrian as we drove through the foggy streets. San Francisco's lights created hazy halos in the mist, casting strange shadows across Adrian's bruised face.

"Nob Hills," Adrian instructed the driver.

"Your place first," I countered, professional mask firmly in place despite the worry gnawing at my chest.

His lips curved slightly. "Worried about me, Ms. Rose?"

"Just doing my job, Mr. Salvatore."

We pulled up to his mansion, sleek and silent in the fog. Charles muttered something about "urgent business" and vanished, abandoning me. "Ms. Rose, help him up," he called, already gone.

In the luxurious living room, Adrian sank into the leather sofa, exhaustion etched on his face. I poured a glass of water and grabbed the first aid kit, forcing myself to stay calm.

"Take off your shirt," I said, trying to keep my tone professional.

He raised an eyebrow, his lips curving. "So eager?"

"Don't make me regret staying." I glared, handing him the water.

He chuckled softly, unbuttoning his shirt with deliberately slow fingers. As the fabric slid away, it revealed his chest covered in bruises  sweat-slicked skin, taut muscles, purple marks mixing with old scars. My breath caught, heart skipping a beat.

I knelt down, leaning close, taking out an alcohol swab. His skin was burning hot, emanating a faint scent of sweat and his unique essence. I gently wiped a red welt on his chest, my fingertips sliding over hard muscle. He hissed, tensing.

"Relax," I murmured, unconsciously softening my touch. "Almost done."

"Gentler than that night," he said in a low voice, amused, eyes locked on me.

I froze, fingers stopping at his ribs. "Shut up."

Heat crept up my ears. His gaze burned into me, like that night  him pressing me down, teeth on my neck. The smell of alcohol mixed with his skin's warmth made my hand tremble, nearly dropping the cotton ball. He caught it  his hand covering mine so quickly I couldn't react.

"Why are you shaking?" he asked softly, thumb stroking my hand.

"Cold," I lied, trying to pull away. He held tighter, grip firm.

"Liar." He sat up straight, close enough to count his eyelashes. His chest rose and fell, muscles jumping under the wounds. "What are you thinking about?"

"Thinking you should stop moving," I said stubbornly, using my other hand to press gauze to his shoulder scrape. His breath fanned hot against my neck.

"You care about me?" He laughed softly, his hand sliding up my wrist to rest where my pulse raced.

"Professional necessity." I turned away, but his fingers caught my chin, forcing me to look back.

"You care," he said, eyes dark as night, voice hoarse and commanding.

"Let go," I glared at him, my heartbeat drumming wildly.

"No." He pulled me closer, my knees hitting his thighs. I lost my balance, falling into his embrace, hands bracing against his chest  his heartbeat was fierce, burning like a brand.

"Adrian  " I gasped, trying to push away. His arms locked around my waist, holding me tight.

"Stop pretending." His lips brushed my ear, hot and wet, whispering. "You want this."

My throat tightened. His hand slid down, gripping my bottom, fingers pressing hard through the fabric. I bit my lip, suppressing a moan  my body betraying me, heat pooling in my core.

"Let go," I managed to say, pushing against his chest. He didn't budge, his other hand tangling in my hair, yanking my head back.

"Still being stubborn?" His lips nearly touched mine, breath laced with whiskey, making me dizzy. "You weren't this talkative that night."

Memories exploded  him tearing my clothes, me riding him, screaming until hoarse. That heat rushed back, making my legs weak. His hand slid lower, pressing between my thighs, rubbing through my pants.

"Stop  " I grabbed his wrist, but didn't push him away. His thumb pressed harder, drawing a gasp from me, wetness spreading between my legs.

"Still saying no?" He growled, kissing me hard  rough, fierce, teeth clashing with my lips. I tasted blood as his tongue invaded, dominating mine.

My mind went blank and I kissed back  biting him in return, hands clutching his wounded shoulder. He groaned, gripping harder, kneading until my flesh tingled. My thighs unconsciously squeezed together, rubbing against his hard abdomen.

The doorbell rang.