By morning, sunlight spilled through the curtains, painting the room gold. Talia stirred first, realizing with a start that she was still lying against him, his arm heavy around her waist. Adrian was awake too, watching her with that quiet intensity that made her heartbeat stumble.
"Good morning," he said, voice husky from sleep.
Her cheeks warmed, but she smiled. "Morning."
Neither of them moved. Neither wanted to. It was as if breaking the embrace would undo everything they'd shared the night before.
Eventually, he brushed a kiss against her forehead, murmuring, "I could get used to this."
And that was when the day began—not with grand gestures or declarations, but with the simple intimacy of two people waking in each other's arms, knowing something had shifted forever.
She expected him to pull away, to let the spell break—but instead, he sat up, ran a hand over his face, and said, "Stay here. I'll make breakfast."
Talia blinked in shock. "You'll… cook?"
A half-smile tugged at his lips. "Don't look so surprised. I'm not completely helpless."
He slipped out of bed, bare-chested, and padded into the small kitchen of her apartment. Talia sat frozen, hugging her knees, listening to the unfamiliar sounds of him opening drawers, breaking eggs, the soft clatter of plates. The sight of the mighty Adrian Wolfe—her cold, commanding boss—standing there whisking eggs and flipping bread—it was almost surreal.
When he returned with two plates, he set them on the table, a quiet pride in his eyes. "It's not five-star dining, but it'll do."
They ate together, laughter bubbling up when Talia teased him about how the bread was slightly burnt. He played along, enjoying the rare lightness between them.
Then, as the plates emptied and the laughter quieted, Adrian leaned forward, his gaze locking onto hers with startling intensity.
"Talia…" his voice carried weight now, no trace of playfulness.
"Yes, sir?" she said softly, her chest tightening.
He took her hand across the table, firm and unshakable. "I don't want this to be just one night of comfort. I want more. I want you. Be my woman."
The silence stretched, trembling with meaning. Then Talia whispered, "How can I ever be your woman? I'm not good enough for you. I'm just a common maid" her head dropped in shame.
"Talia." He whispered.
"I don't see you like that. You make me feel what I've never felt before"
Her lips parted her breath catching. She wanted to say yes immediately, but Cassandra's face flashed in her mind. "What about Cassandra?"
Adrian's jaw tightened, his eyes unwavering. "She doesn't matter. She never did. Not like this. Not like you."
Adrian exhaled like a man freed, pulling her into his arms and holding her against him as if he'd been waiting a lifetime for that moment.
Adrian held her hand firmly, eyes never leaving hers.
When the words finally left her lips—"Yes"—something shifted in the room, almost like the air grew lighter, freer.
A rare smile curved at the edge of Adrian's mouth, a softness few had ever seen on him. He leaned closer, brushing his thumb across her cheek as if she were something too delicate to touch, too precious to risk losing.
"Say it again," he murmured.
Talia's heart thundered. "Yes… I'll be your woman."
That was all it took.
He closed the space between them, his lips pressing against hers—not with the fiery urgency of the night before, but with a deep, soul-stirring tenderness. It was a kiss that spoke of promises, of unspoken vows, of something real taking root between them.
"You're mine now, Talia," he whispered. "And I'll never let anyone treat you like less again." Talia's eyes glistened, her lips trembling with a smile. In his arms, she didn't feel like a maid or a girl struggling to make ends meet—she felt seen, wanted, chosen.
Adrian kissed her once more, longer this time, before pulling her fully into his embrace. They stayed like that, locked in a quiet world of their own, while the morning sun washed them in gold.
Reluctantly, Adrian left Talia's apartment that Sunday evening. He hadn't wanted to—he wanted to stay wrapped around her warmth forever—but work awaited him in the morning. His thoughts were consumed by her: her laughter, her soft "yes," the way she had fallen asleep in his arms. By the time he drove back to his penthouse, dawn was creeping in, and the weight of reality pressed against the sweetness of the night.
Adrian's Penthouse 11:00p.m.
Cassandra was already waiting.
She paced the living room in silk pajamas, eyes sharp, arms folded like a general preparing for war.
She lounged on his white leather sofa, a glass of red wine in her hand, her stilettos kicked off casually on the floor. Her smile was sharp, almost predatory, as she looked at him over.
"Where were you last night?" she demanded, her voice shrill.
Adrian paused, jaw tightening. "I told you, I had things to handle at the office."
"Don't lie to me, Adrian!" she snapped, stepping in front of him. "I called your driver. I called your phone. You disappeared all night, and don't think I don't notice how you've been acting strange lately.
"Out all day, Adrian? Didn't even think to call me?"
Adrian stiffened. "What are you doing here, Cassandra? I didn't invite you."
"Oh, don't act so cold," she said, rising gracefully to her feet. "I came because I missed you. But then I realized…" Her tone shifted, sharp as a blade. "…you weren't at the office all evening, were you?"
Adrian's jaw tightened. "I don't owe you an explanation."
Cassandra's eyes narrowed. She stepped closer, her perfume thick in the air, her voice dripping with venom. "Tell me the truth, Adrian. You've been distant, distracted. Who is she? Don't tell me it's that maid I saw following orders like a little mouse. Is that who you've been hiding with?"
His eyes snapped to hers, dark and dangerous. "Don't."
"Oh, it is her." Cassandra's laugh was harsh, brittle. "Pathetic. A janitor? You've fallen so low?" She shoved a finger into his chest, fury igniting. "You belong to me. Don't embarrass me with some nobody!"
Adrian caught her wrist midair, his voice low and controlled, every word heavy.
"I don't belong to you, Cassandra. I never did. And after tonight, you will never step foot in this apartment again. Whatever this is—it's over."
Her face drained, rage and desperation fighting for dominance. "You… you can't just throw me away like trash—"
But Adrian was already walking past her, unbuttoning his cuffs with an air of finality. "Stay out of my life, Cassandra. That's the last time I'll warn you."
He disappeared into his room, leaving Cassandra trembling in silence, her wine glass quivering in her hand. For the first time, she felt it—Adrian slipping away, and another woman in his place.
Cassandra stood alone in Adrian's living room after he shut himself away, her hand trembling around the half-empty wine glass. Her chest heaved with rage, but beneath it was a sharp pang of fear.
He's slipping away….
Her mind replayed Adrian's words, his tone of finality. He had never spoken to her that way before. Not even during their worst fights.
She slammed the glass down on the table, wine spilling across the marble. No. I won't lose him to some cleaning girl.
She paced back and forth. Suddenly, her lips curled into a slow, dangerous smile.
"Alex…" she whispered.
She remembered the way he had always watched Adrian—resentful, calculating. And the way he had looked at the maid. Hungry. Envious.
"If Adrian won't listen to me," she muttered, pulling out her phone, "then I'll use the one person desperate enough to do my dirty work."
Her fingers hovered over Alex's number, her smirk widening.
"Tomorrow, Talia will regret ever stepping into Wolfe & Co."
Cassandra sat on the edge of the leather couch, her eyes narrowing as she scrolled through her phone. Adrian's rejection still echoed in her ears, and her chest burned with humiliation.
But she wouldn't scream, not this time. This wasn't the moment for chaos—it was the moment for control.
Her manicured fingers tapped out a message swiftly, each word carrying venom laced with sugar:
Cassandra:"Meet me tomorrow at noon during your break. I'll be waiting at the enclosed eatery off Bridge Lane. Don't be late."
She reread the text before pressing send. Short. Precise. Commanding.
Her phone buzzed almost instantly with Alex's reply.
Alex:"Yes, ma'am."
Cassandra smirked, satisfied. Good. The rat is eager. He'll be useful.
She leaned back, crossing her legs, sipping the last of her wine. For the first time that evening, a strange calm washed over her.
"Tomorrow, the little maid will learn her place." The glow of her phone screen lit her face in the dim apartment, her smile sharp as a knife.