Adrian POV
The office was quiet, deceptively so. The kind of silence that makes power feel heavy. Glass walls reflected the morning sun, polished floors gleamed but none of it mattered. My focus was elsewhere.
She was coming.
Amara.
The elevator doors opened. Click. Click. Click. Her heels on the marble floors were like a countdown. Black tailored pants, crisp emerald blouse, hair pinned in a precise twist. Every step deliberate, commanding. She didn't see me watching. That was her first mistake.
A smirk tugged at my lips. She was brilliant. Untouchable. Dangerous. Infuriatingly captivating. And every step reminded me of the night she had bled of chaos I had buried to protect her. Not betrayal. Just a choice only I could make. She would never understand. Not yet.
In morning, I had left a coding problem on her desk a trap left by Julian Cross, designed to challenge even the best. Marcus Hale noticed first.
"You're going to spend all day on this?" he asked, leaning casually against her desk. Smirk in place.
She didn't look up. "I plan to finish before lunch. Unless you want to watch."
Marcus raised an eyebrow. "I could help. Maybe mentor you."
I leaned back, quietly entertained. Watching her handle Marcus was like watching a lion toy with a fox. Every word, every subtle flick of her fingers, every glint of defiance it was beautiful. Marcus's arrogance had no effect on her.
"I don't need mentoring," she said, voice soft but cutting. "I need space to work. Something you might struggle with."
Marcus's smirk faltered. Good. She was fire, and I loved watching it burn.
I stepped into the office, letting my presence stretch across the room. Marcus straightened. Amara's back stiffened, but she didn't glance my way.
"Morning, Ms. Veyron," I said, low, controlled. "How's the challenge?"
"Under control," she replied, fingers flying over the keyboard.
I leaned on the edge of her desk, shadow falling across her monitor. "Good. You should be. I set it up knowing only you could solve it."
Her fingers paused. Recognition, respect, and old frustration flickered across her face a pulse only I could see.
"Why me?" she asked, voice sharp.
I let my eyes linger. "Because you're the best. And I don't trust anyone else with it."
Her lips pressed into a thin line, silent rebellion. Untouchable. Brilliant. And mine, in a way no one else could claim.
Marcus, sensing the shift, leaned in again. "Looks like someone's got the boss's attention."
Amara finally looked up. "Careful, Marcus. You might be mistaken about who's watching whom."
I allowed a faint smirk. Chess. She was unknowingly moving right into my trap.
Selene's voice buzzed over her shoulder. "Lunch in an hour. Don't let him scare you too much."
I noted her loyal, protective, competent. But Amara didn't need saving right now. She needed challenge. I loved being the one to deliver it.
Later, the room felt smaller, charged with tension. I moved closer, showing her a corrupted line in the code. My hand brushed hers just enough to spark electricity, controlled. She flinched but didn't pull away.
"Don't get too close," she said, voice tight, eyes meeting mine. "Or I'll assume you're here to distract me."
"Maybe I am," I replied, leaning subtly, "maybe I want to see how focused you can stay… under pressure."
A soft, incredulous laugh escaped her. "You're impossible."
"Maybe," I said, straightening, letting the smirk linger. "But you haven't told me I'm wrong yet."
By mid afternoon, Marcus continued his distractions. Amara handled each one precise, witty, commanding. I watched, noting every flash of irritation, every moment of pride, every subtle signal she didn't realize she was giving.
Ethan called briefly, questioning my choice to involve her. I deflected. She was mine to observe, to test, to see how she navigated the traps I'd laid. Every move mattered I retreated to my office, leaning against the glass wall. My eyes followed her from a distance. Brilliant. Stubborn. Unrelenting. Fragile in ways she would never admit. I would never admit it aloud. But she was mine. Not by ownership, but because no one else could understand her the way I could.
The plan was unfolding. Julian's betrayal, the coding trap, the corporate chessboard all pieces moving. And she was at the center.
One day, she might forgive me. One day, she might understand why I had left her that night. Not today. Not yet.
Today, she was Amara Veyron brilliant, untouchable, unknowingly exactly where I wanted her.
I sent a brief, calculated message to her phone:
"Keep the fire burning. I'll need it so
on."
Leaning back, I let the city hum beneath me. Every glance, every subtle move, was part of the plan a plan only she could complete.