Ava stormed down the marble corridor, clutching her folder like a lifeline. Her heels clicked against the floor, echoing like warning shots in the now eerily quiet office. She needed air, distance, space—anything that would let her escape the storm that was Adrian Black.
But fate, of course, had other plans.
A firm, low voice called behind her.
"Going somewhere, Ava?"
Her stomach sank. Her pulse spiked. That voice—the one she hadn't wanted to hear for five years—was the same voice that made her knees weak. And there he was, leaning casually against the doorway to his office, dark gray eyes glinting with amusement. His tie hung loose, the first few buttons of his shirt undone, just enough to radiate careless authority.
She froze.
"Adrian…" Her voice came out sharper than she intended. "I'm… busy."
He straightened, walking toward her in slow, deliberate steps. Every inch of him exuded control, danger, and that maddening arrogance she couldn't forget. Her heart thumped erratically, and a small, stubborn part of her wanted to run straight into his arms. The smarter part wanted to punch him.
"You look tense," he said, stopping just a foot away. "Is it because of me?"
She wanted to deny it. She really did. But the truth—her pulse, her racing thoughts, the heat creeping up her neck—betrayed her.
"I'm not tense," she snapped, attempting a tight-lipped smile. "I'm… professional."
"Professional." He repeated the word, tilting his head slightly, voice thick with amusement. "Interesting. Because the way your fingers are gripping that folder says otherwise."
Her cheeks flamed. She could feel the heat creeping down to her chest. Her hands twitched, wanting to shove the folder in his face—or maybe drop it entirely and run.
"I'm busy," she said again, firmer this time, trying to regain her composure.
He stepped closer. Close enough that she could feel the subtle warmth radiating off his body. Close enough that the faint scent of his cologne—rich, sharp, intoxicating—wrapped around her like a leash.
"Busy." He smirked, the corners of his mouth lifting in that infuriating way she remembered so well. "You've been running from me all day, but Ava… you're not very good at it."
She bristled. "I'm not running. I'm… avoiding unnecessary confrontation."
His gray eyes darkened, mischievous and dangerous all at once. "Avoiding confrontation? With me? Really?" He leaned even closer, close enough that she could see the fine line of stubble along his jaw and feel the faint brush of his sleeve against her arm. "You were very good at confrontation when we… you know… had other ways of arguing."
Her breath hitched. The memory was instantaneous and brutal: stolen kisses in empty rooms, heated arguments that led to heated touches, nights that left her breathless and disoriented. She shook her head, forcing herself to focus.
"Adrian, this isn't… that. This is work. Professional. Now, if you'll excuse me…"
She tried to step past him. He blocked her path effortlessly, arms resting casually on the doorway, his presence like a physical wall.
"You know, Ava," he murmured, low and intimate, "I've waited a long time for this. Not just to own the company…" His gaze lingered on her lips, then back to her eyes. "…but to see you again. Close enough to see the fire in your eyes."
She swallowed hard. Her voice faltered. "I'm not… I'm not that person anymore."
He tilted his head, smirk growing, eyes alight with challenge. "No? Funny. I remember exactly how that person reacts… when she's backed into a corner."
Ava's heart slammed. Every rational thought screamed at her to leave, but her body betrayed her, standing frozen, every nerve alert, every instinct screaming that he had her exactly where he wanted.
"You're infuriating," she hissed, trying to break his gaze. "You haven't changed."
"Neither have you." He stepped forward again, his presence pressing against her like an irresistible force. "Still stubborn. Still beautiful. Still pretending that you don't feel what you feel… when you look at me."
She blinked. Stung by his words, she wanted to deny it. She wanted to shove him away, scream, anything. But she couldn't deny it—the rush of heat that pooled low in her stomach, the rapid flutter of her pulse, the unmistakable tension that hummed between them.
"You're impossible," she whispered, exhaling sharply.
"And yet, here you are," he said, voice dropping, rich and heavy, a dangerous undertone threading his words. "Standing in my office, instead of walking away."
Ava's chest heaved. Her fingers clenched the folder, knuckles white. She was this close to losing her mind, this close to letting her guard down—and he knew it.
"You don't get it, Adrian," she said, voice low but sharp. "I can't… I won't—"
He stepped closer, so close that the air between them seemed to sizzle. "Won't what? Admit that you've missed me? Admit that every time I touch a nerve, it drives you crazy? Admit that you're mine—whether you like it or not?"
Her knees almost gave out. She wanted to push him away, slap him, run—but instead, she found herself pressed against the sleek mahogany desk behind her, cornered, utterly exposed.
Adrian's eyes softened just slightly, enough to make her heart twist. "You've fought me for five years, Ava. And now… now I'm back. Right here. Right in your world."
She closed her eyes, trying to will herself to be rational. Professional. Independent. Immune. But all that effort crumbled when he leaned in, close enough that his lips brushed her ear, his breath warm and intoxicating.
"Don't fight me," he whispered, voice husky. "Not when I've waited this long."
Her eyes snapped open. Their faces were inches apart. The tension between them was so thick it could be sliced with a knife. Every rational thought screamed to run. Every primal instinct screamed to melt into him.
She took a shaky step back, heart hammering. "I—"
Before she could finish, the sharp chime of her phone broke the moment. She grabbed it like a lifeline, using it as an excuse to escape. Adrian watched her with that infuriating, knowing smirk as she stumbled out of the office, cheeks flushed, pulse racing.
"You'll be back," he murmured to himself, voice low, dangerous, and victorious.
Ava didn't answer. She couldn't. She was already plotting her escape strategy—but deep down, she knew one thing: she was utterly, helplessly, and dangerously entangled with Adrian Black.
And this time… there would be no safe distance.