The silence in Adrian's penthouse was deceptive, like the calm before a storm that no one had the strength to stop. Ayla lay awake, the silky sheets twisted around her bare legs, her body still humming from the kiss they'd shared just hours ago. It hadn't been part of the plan. Nothing about tonight had followed any rule they'd set.
But then again, the rules had been breaking since the moment she walked into his world.
Adrian hadn't said much after their lips parted. He'd just stared at her—those sharp, guarded eyes flickering with something far too vulnerable—before turning and walking into his office. She hadn't followed him.
And now, lying in his bed in a shirt too large and silence too thick, Ayla couldn't tell if the ache in her chest was longing or regret.
Just when she thought he'd shut her out again, she heard the soft creak of the door. Her body tensed instinctively—but it was him. Adrian. Hair tousled, shirt unbuttoned halfway, eyes darker than the night sky outside.
He stood by the door for a second longer, his gaze sweeping across her like he wasn't sure if she was real or another dream that would disappear by morning.
"I couldn't sleep," he said quietly.
She sat up, pulling the sheets higher, heart thudding. "Me neither."
"I kept hearing your voice in my head," he continued, walking slowly toward the bed. "Asking me why I push you away. Why I hide."
"And?" she asked, not sure she wanted the answer.
Adrian reached the edge of the bed and crouched slightly, placing a hand on the mattress beside her thigh. "I push you away because I'm terrified."
Ayla blinked. Adrian Blake—terrified?
"You're the only thing that doesn't fit into my world," he whispered, his voice low, raw. "Everything else I control. Everything else bends. But you… you make me lose my grip."
She didn't speak, afraid a single word might make him retreat again.
"I told myself this marriage would be cold. Calculated. A business transaction." He leaned in closer. "But then you walked in with those stubborn eyes and that untamed fire, and I forgot how to breathe."
The confession wrapped around her like warm silk. Ayla reached out, her fingers brushing his jaw. "Then stop fighting it," she whispered. "Stop punishing both of us."
For a moment, he hesitated. Then he slowly lifted her hand and kissed her wrist—soft, reverent. His breath against her skin sent a shiver down her spine.
"I don't know how to be gentle, Ayla," he admitted. "But I'll try… if you let me."
She nodded, her heart already betraying her. "Show me, Adrian. Show me I'm not just a contract."
His control cracked.
Adrian leaned in, his lips brushing hers—slowly this time. No war. No masks. Just quiet desperation and silent promises. Ayla's fingers threaded into his hair as he deepened the kiss, a quiet moan escaping her lips as he pulled her closer.
She was no longer cold under the sheets. His touch ignited sparks along her skin, his hands exploring her like she was something sacred. Every kiss, every breath they shared, felt like they were building a language only they could understand.
Ayla gasped when his lips found her neck, her shoulder, tracing paths of fire across her skin. Her body arched instinctively as his hand slid beneath the shirt she wore—his shirt—and splayed across her waist.
"Are you sure?" he murmured against her collarbone, his voice laced with restraint.
She answered by cupping his face, pulling him closer. "Don't make me beg, Adrian."
His groan was low, primal.
And then he wasn't holding back anymore.
The room faded. The storm outside roared on, but inside, there was only the heat of skin on skin, the tangle of bodies finding solace, the overwhelming relief of finally giving in. It wasn't just desire. It was more. It was two broken people finding something whole between them.
Afterwards, tangled in the sheets, their bodies still pressed together, Ayla rested her head on his chest. His heartbeat was steady, strong beneath her cheek.
"Tell me this isn't just temporary," she whispered into the darkness.
Adrian didn't answer immediately. His fingers traced circles on her bare back.
"I can't make promises I'm not sure I can keep," he said honestly. "But I can tell you this… tonight was real."
She nodded, pressing a kiss to his chest. "That's enough. For now."
But even as she said it, a sliver of fear crept in. What if this was just one night in a long chain of unspoken moments? What if he would wake up tomorrow and return to being the cold billionaire with a locked heart?
As if sensing her thoughts, Adrian's arms tightened around her.
"I meant what I said," he murmured. "You're not just a contract to me anymore."
Ayla let those words cradle her as she drifted into sleep.
The next morning came with golden sunlight cutting through the curtains and a gentle breeze fluttering the edges of the bedsheets.
Adrian was already up, standing by the window in nothing but sweatpants, coffee in hand. His posture was stiff—alert.
"Morning," Ayla mumbled, wrapping the sheet around herself as she sat up.
He turned, a faint smile twitching at the corner of his lips. "Sleep okay?"
"Better than I have in months." Her eyes searched his face. "But you look like something's wrong."
He sighed, setting the coffee cup down. "I have to attend a meeting with a board member. In person. Something about shifting shares. I didn't want to leave without telling you."
Ayla nodded, trying to keep the sting of disappointment off her face. She knew their world didn't allow fairy tales. But the warmth of last night still lingered, and she wasn't ready to let it go.
Adrian walked over, cupping her chin gently. "Don't overthink anything," he said. "I'm coming back. And when I do, we'll talk about what happens next."
She smiled softly. "I'll hold you to that."
He kissed her forehead and turned to leave.
As the door shut behind him, Ayla fell back on the pillows, heart full of a strange, dangerous hope.
But not every morning stayed golden.
An hour later, her phone buzzed.
It was a message.
Blocked Number:
He's lying to you. Check the news.
Her fingers trembled as she opened the browser and typed in Adrian Blake's name.
And then her stomach dropped.
There, plastered on a business gossip site, was a headline:
"Adrian Blake Spotted Leaving Private Club with Socialite Cassandra Myles — Just Business or Rekindled Flame?"
Beneath it: a blurry photo of Adrian walking beside a tall, glamorous woman with a red dress and a smile that spelled trouble.
Ayla's world tilted.
The sheet slipped from her fingers.
And her heart?
Her heart cracked again.
To be continued…