Lara had expected anger. Resentment. A constant battle of wills.
What she hadn't expected was the way Adrian's presence made her pulse race.
It was infuriating.
One week into their marriage, she had mastered the art of ignoring him. Or at least, she told herself she had. She avoided lingering in the same room for too long, kept their conversations short, and forced herself to think of anything but the way his deep voice sent shivers down her spine.
But it was impossible to ignore him completely.
Adrian Sinclair had a presence that was impossible to overlook—tall, imposing, effortlessly confident. And worst of all, he seemed to know exactly how much he got under her skin.
Tonight was no different.
Lara had retreated to the library in the penthouse, seeking an escape from the stifling atmosphere of their forced marriage. She traced her fingers along the rows of books, inhaling the scent of old pages and polished wood. The space was warm and inviting, a stark contrast to the cold, calculated nature of the man who owned it.
She had just pulled out a novel when she sensed it—him.
"You know, it's adorable how you think you can avoid me."
She stiffened at the sound of his voice.
Adrian stood in the doorway, watching her with a mixture of amusement and something she couldn't quite name. He was dressed casually for once, his usual stiff, tailored suits replaced with dark slacks and a partially unbuttoned shirt that revealed a hint of his chest.
Lara rolled her eyes and turned back to the bookshelf. "I wasn't avoiding you. I was enjoying my solitude."
His smirk deepened. "Is that what we're calling it now?"
She ignored him, pretending to be engrossed in the book in her hands. But she was too aware of his presence, of the way he moved toward her with slow, deliberate steps.
"Find anything interesting?" he asked, stopping just behind her.
Lara forced herself to remain still, even as his voice sent a shiver down her spine. "Anything would be more interesting than this conversation."
His chuckle was deep, almost pleased. "You wound me, Mrs. Sinclair."
She turned then, glaring up at him. "Don't call me that."
"Why not?" He tilted his head, studying her. "It's your name now, isn't it?"
Lara clenched her jaw. "Only because you forced me into this."
His expression didn't change, but something dark flickered in his eyes. "I didn't force you to say 'I do.'"
She scoffed. "Right. You just left me with no choice."
A muscle in his jaw tightened, but the smirk never left his lips. "If that's how you want to see it."
She turned away, but he was still too close, his presence pressing into her like a shadow she couldn't shake. The heat between them was suffocating, an invisible force pulling her toward him despite everything.
She hated it.
She hated him.
But not enough.
Not enough to stop the way her breath caught when he reached out, his fingers barely grazing her wrist.
She jerked away, her heart pounding. "Don't touch me."
His gaze darkened, but not with anger. With something else. Something far more dangerous.
"You're staring," he murmured.
Lara scoffed, crossing her arms. "In your dreams, Sinclair."
His smirk only grew. "You might hate me, Lara, but you're not immune to me."
Her pulse thrummed in her ears. He was too close now, his scent—clean and expensive—wrapping around her like a net.
She needed to get out of this room.
Now.
"Go to hell," she muttered, pushing past him.
But as she brushed against him, he caught her wrist, holding her in place.
"Careful, sweetheart," he said softly, his thumb grazing her skin in a way that sent a traitorous shiver up her arm. "You keep looking at me like that, and I might start thinking you actually want me."
Lara yanked her hand away, ignoring the way her skin tingled where he had touched her.
"I wouldn't want you if you were the last man on earth."
His smirk didn't falter, but there was something else in his gaze now. Something unreadable.
"We'll see about that."
With that, he stepped aside, giving her a clear path to the door.
Lara forced herself to walk away, her spine stiff and her hands clenched into fists.
She didn't look back.
But she could feel his eyes on her long after she had gone.
The Days That Followed
Lara did everything she could to pretend that moment in the library hadn't happened.
She avoided him more than ever, kept her distance during meals, and refused to engage in any conversation that wasn't absolutely necessary.
But it didn't matter.
Because Adrian was always there.
At breakfast, he sat across from her, his gaze lingering just a second too long.
At social events, his hand found the small of her back, guiding her through the room with the ease of a man who was used to possession.
At night, she could hear him moving through the halls, his presence a constant reminder that she was trapped in his world now.
And worse?
She couldn't stop thinking about him.
It was infuriating like really infuriating, to the point where,
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the way he had looked at her in the library. The way his voice had dropped, turning soft and dangerous all at once.
She hated it.
She hated him.
But not enough.
Not enough to stop the way her heart betrayed her every time he was near.
Not enough to stop the slow, creeping realization that terrified her more than anything.
Because if she wasn't careful, she was going to fall.
And Adrian Sinclair?
He would catch her.
And then he would destroy her.
"What should I do? How should I protect myself? " In situations like these we all know who gets hurt the most.