Chapter 75

Anna's POV

Adrian's messages glowed on my screen. I paused at the last: "Tomorrow, normal schedule. See you at 8." Yesterday, he'd raced to Sophie's bedside; today, it's business as usual. My "week's leave" call felt like a misstep now. I deleted the unread texts—visions of him cradling her fragile frame outside the hospital flashing back, her against him. No excuses needed. I'd seen it all.

His voice broke the quiet of his study. "Anna."

I glanced up from desk, meeting his gaze—unreadable, shadowed by sleepless circles. My chest tightened, but I steadied my hands on the files.

"Good morning, Mr. Salvatore." My tone held firm. "Your 9 AM with Legal's shifted—"

"Why didn't you answer yesterday?" He stepped closer, his presence thick, voice low and edged. "I called. Over and over."

I paused, papers pressing into my fingers. "Family emergency, Mr. Salvatore. I was tied up."

Not a full lie—Marcus's arrest and Nonna's house on the line had chained me to the precinct all day.

"What happened?" Concern softened his bite. "You okay?"

"Nothing you need to worry about," I said, eyes on the calendar. "Family stuff. It's handled."

His jaw tightened, eyes narrowing. "You should've told me. I thought—" He cut off, tension flickering.

"That night…" His breath grazed my ear, warm and close. A shiver raced down my spine—his hands pinning me, mouth fierce on mine that night surged back. I stepped away, forcing space. "Your personal life's not my business, sir."

His fingers brushed my wrist—faint bruises still hidden there. The touch ignited, my body trembling despite my will. "Anna—"

"Winston!" I called, sharp and quick. "Breakfast ready?"

Winston swept in with a tray—my shield. I poured Adrian's coffee—cream, no sugar—hands steady from habit. Our fingers met as I passed it; his thumb traced slow circles, deliberate. Heat flushed my neck. I pulled back fast.

The car ride choked me—his cologne heavy, memories heavier. I stared ahead, pulse thudding.

"I thought you were dodging me," he said, voice low in the quiet. "After Sophie's news."

So that's it—worried I'd seen him play savior. "I wasn't," I said, neutral. "Family emergency, like I said."

"If you need time—"

"I don't." I cut him off. "It's under control."

At the office, I dove into work—Marcus's fraud case reports, emails, projections—blocking the media hum about Sophie. She'd bounced back too quick—yesterday's "stable" didn't fit an overdose.

The front desk buzzed. "Ms. Rose? Visitor for Mr. Salvatore."

Sophie leaned on reception—Chanel suit roughed up just so, dark circles stark for effect. "Anna." Her smile sliced, laced with knowing. "Adrian free?"

I clutched my tablet, mask tight. "He's in meetings. I'll check."

"Oh?" She tilted her head, feline and cool. "You knew his schedule so… intimately at the launch."

I nodded to the meeting room, sidestepping her barb. "Green tea or Earl Grey?"

She dragged a nail along the wall, stopping at Adrian's launch photo. "Cream, no sugar," she said, eyes catching mine in the glass. "But you know that, don't you?"

A sting—my hands on his coffee, his touch clinging. "Tea's coming," I said, flat, turning away.

"Anna." Her voice hardened, cutting deep. "Men like him crave the familiar. The safe. You saw—he ran to me yesterday."

It stabbed—a blade twisting an old ache. I smiled, thin and sharp. "I'll let him know you're here. He might suggest rest—yesterday was… busy."

Her grin wavered. "He'll see me. Always does."

I told Adrian, then retreated to my desk. Through the glass, I glimpsed them—Sophie gesturing, dramatic; him listening, steady but not frantic. "You should rest," he said as I passed with files—gentler, but not yesterday's desperation.

"Press wouldn't stop," she quavered, rehearsed. "I had nowhere else."

"Stay, Anna," she called, venom sweet. "You're so… involved."

His fists clenched. "Enough, Sophie," he snapped, tight. "Anna, have Charles get lunch up. And a place for Ms. Green—away from this."

I nodded. "Of course, Mr. Salvatore." I sent up dining room fare and had Charles book a Four Seasons suite—let her stage her drama there. Adrian's calm today gnawed at me, but I shoved it down. Didn't matter.

Later, hunched over Marcus's files, I felt him—Adrian at my desk, silent, watching.

"Need something, Mr. Salvatore?" I asked, eyes on the papers.

"What emergency?" His voice pressed, direct. "You never miss calls."

I sighed, brief. "It's complicated."

"Tell me." He pulled a chair close—eye-level, not looming, a shift that hit me.

"Not your problem," I said, curt.

His heat pressed in—cologne thick, body near as he leaned forward. "I'll decide that," he said, low, firm.

"Adrian." A warning, his name deliberate. "Not here."

"Anna." A growl, rough and deep. "Stop shutting me out."

I stood—my back hit the desk as he rose, caging me. His breath grazed my neck, hot and slow—back to that night, his hands tearing, mouth claiming. My pulse roared.

"Mr. Salvatore," I said, steel in my voice, "this is inappropriate."

His eyes darkened, holding mine. "Us? Always has been. Didn't stop you then."

"That was before." I stared back, fighting the fire licking my skin. "Things changed."

"Sophie?" His jaw tensed. "Or you're scared?"

"My family needs me." I slipped free, breath unsteady. "You've got your own mess."

He caught my wrist—gentle, firm. "We're not done."

I broke away, smoothing my blazer. "Yes, Mr. Salvatore, we are."

His heat lingered as I walked off—searing, unshakable. Sophie's "familiar" echoed, a fresh cut—Adrian's world wasn't mine, not with Marcus facing jail, Nonna's house at risk, my heart teetering.

My phone buzzed—the lawyer. I deleted Adrian's latest message, unread. Family. Work. That held. The rest—a distraction I couldn't afford.