Adrian's POV
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The city stretched beneath me like a living map steel veins, glittering lights, and shadows that always hid knives.
I'd built an empire on those shadows. I knew how to wield them.
And yet, the moment Amara walked into my office heels sharp, chin tilted like a blade I felt the ground shift in ways I hadn't prepared for.
Four years, and she still had that effect.
She shouldn't. She should've been a distant memory by now. But memories don't walk into your office wearing black silk and red lipstick, looking like a goddamn war you'd lose before it even began.
"Why me?" she demanded, arms crossed like armor.
Because you're brilliant. Because no one has ever matched the way your mind works. Because I've missed you every fucking day since the night I let you go.
"Because none of them are you," I said instead.
Her eyes narrowed, unimpressed. Good. I didn't want her impressed. That would make this too easy.
"You're not flattering me into this."
"I wouldn't insult you with flattery," I said smoothly. "I'm stating a fact."
She hated that. I saw it in the way her jaw tightened. Hated that I still knew exactly how to get under her skin.
But she also knew I wasn't lying.
I could've hired ten other cybersecurity experts. But none of them were Amara. None of them had the brilliance that once lit up my nights as much as her laughter did.
I turned to my desk, pulled open a drawer, and set a thick folder between us. "This isn't blackmail, Amara. It's business. A contract. One that benefits both of us."
Suspicion flickered in her eyes, sharp and guarded.
"Business," she repeated, her voice dripping disbelief.
I slid the folder toward her. "Read."
She hesitated, then flipped it open. Her eyes scanned the page, quick and precise, the way they always had. This woman didn't just read she dissected, calculated, anticipated.
Clause by clause, she devoured it in silence.
Finally, she looked up. "You're offering me double my current rate."
"Triple, if you finish within six weeks."
Her lips pressed into a line, but I didn't miss the flicker in her gaze. Interest. Temptation.
"And full restoration of my blacklisted contracts?" she asked.
"Yes."
"With a personal letter of recommendation from Adrian Blackwell, the king of Manhattan finance himself?"
I let my mouth tilt in a small smirk. "If you want it framed, I'll even sign in gold ink."
She rolled her eyes, but I caught the way her fingers tightened on the paper.
This wasn't just bait. It was a lifeline. And she knew it.
"You think throwing money at me erases what you did?" she said, voice sharp as glass.
"No." My tone cooled, even as something in my chest tightened. "This isn't about erasing. It's about moving forward."
Her laugh was short, bitter. "You don't get to dictate how I move forward."
"You're right." I stepped closer, leaning against the edge of my desk, my gaze locked on hers. "But I can offer you something no one else will. Freedom. Your career back. Everything I took, I can return."
The word hung between us. Freedom.
She swallowed hard, and for just a second, the mask cracked. I saw the girl beneath the one who once believed me when I whispered promises in the dark.
Then it was gone, replaced by steel.
"And what do you get?" she asked.
"The best hacker in the country working for me. And the one person I trust to tear Julian's code apart before it destroys everything I built."
Her expression flickered. At Julian's name, the bitterness in her eyes deepened, but so did curiosity.
Good. She was listening.
"I told myself I'd never let you ruin me again," she said quietly.
I let my voice drop, softer but edged with steel. "I never ruined you, Amara. I saved you. You just don't know it yet."
For a heartbeat, silence hummed between us.
Then she snapped the folder shut. "I'll sign. But not because of you. Because this contract benefits me."
My lips curved. "Whatever helps you sleep at night."
She shot me a glare sharp enough to slice, but she reached for the pen I slid across the desk. Her hand didn't tremble.
Of course it didn't.
She scrawled her signature at the bottom with quick, precise strokes.
When she was done, she shoved the folder back toward me. "There. Happy?"
I leaned forward, resting my hands on the desk, close enough for her perfume jasmine and something darker to stir memories I had no right to hold onto.
"Ecstatic," I murmured.
Her breath caught. Just for a second. Then she stepped back,
heels clicking like gunshots as she turned toward the door.
She thought distance would free her.
But she'd just signed herself into my world again.
And this time, I wasn't letting her go.
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