Adrian Blake prided himself on discipline. On control. On keeping his world in order with precision sharp enough to cut. For years, nothing slipped past his grasp. Not competitors, not family, not emotions.
But now, every time he closed his eyes, she was there.
Elena.
The memory of her at the gala, spine straight, eyes flashing with defiance as she struck Naomi down with nothing but words. The way she stood beside him in the garden, fearless enough to say she would pay the cost of fire. The smirk that mocked his rules, the poise that dared to challenge him.
She was in his mind when she shouldn't be. She was under his skin when he had vowed no woman ever would be.
Adrian told himself it was curiosity. An inconvenience. She had surprised him, that was all. But curiosity didn't make his chest tighten at the thought of her laughter. Curiosity didn't make him clench his jaw when he pictured her in another man's company.
It wasn't curiosity. It was something far more dangerous.
He had never been a man who lost control. But for the first time, Adrian feared he might.
Elena, meanwhile, had no time to wrestle with such thoughts. She was too busy playing her own game.
Her family had been circling like vultures since the day she married Adrian. They saw her not as blood, but as a bridge. A way to leech power, to manipulate, to consume. In her past life, she had handed them everything. They had bled her dry, left her in ruins.
This time, she would bleed them instead.
The dinner at her family's estate was their attempt to reassert dominance. Her father sat at the head of the long table, wine glass in hand, a faint sneer on his lips. Her brother lounged lazily, pretending charm but radiating greed. Her mother smiled too brightly, her voice sugary, hiding knives beneath the sweetness.
"Elena," her father began, swirling his wine. "Now that you're finally… settled, perhaps it's time you repaid the family's kindness. We've been keeping certain assets safe in your name, but they would be better managed if transferred back."
In her past life, she would have nodded eagerly, desperate for their approval. She would have signed papers without reading, her blind trust sealing her ruin.
But now, she leaned back in her chair, a slow smile curving her lips. "I'm afraid that won't be possible."
Her brother scoffed. "Why not? You're not even the one handling those accounts. Do you even know what you own?"
Elena's eyes glinted. "I don't have to. Adrian handles everything." She let his name fall casually, like a blade. "And you know how he is. Meticulous. Ruthless. Do you really think he'd let me hand over assets without scrutiny?"
The effect was immediate. Her father's smirk stiffened. Her mother's fingers tightened around her fork. Her brother's face drained of color.
She leaned forward, her voice low but razor sharp. "If you want those assets, by all means, go to Adrian. See how he deals with people who try to deceive his wife."
The silence was thick, suffocating.
Her father cleared his throat, forcing a laugh. "Of course, of course. No need to be so defensive. We're family, after all."
Elena raised her glass. "Exactly. Family." Her smile was sweet, but her eyes promised war.
It was a small victory, but an important one. A reminder to them—and to herself—that she was no longer their puppet. She had claws now. And they had seen them.
When she returned home that night, Adrian was waiting.
He stood in his study, the glow of the desk lamp casting sharp shadows across his face. His jacket hung on the chair, his shirt sleeves rolled up, his tie loosened—a rare sight of him out of armor.
Elena stepped in, her heels clicking against the hardwood. "Working late, as always?"
He didn't look up from the papers in his hand. "Where were you?"
She arched a brow. "Since when do you keep track of my schedule?"
His gaze finally lifted, piercing. "Since it involved your family."
Elena's lips curved. "You had me followed?"
Adrian didn't flinch. "I don't like surprises."
She walked closer, her gown rustling softly. "Then you must be disappointed. Because I'm full of them."
He set the papers down, his eyes locking with hers. "You've changed."
Her breath caught for a moment, but she masked it with a smirk. "Is that a complaint?"
Adrian rose, crossing the space between them in measured steps until he stood just inches away. His presence wrapped around her, overwhelming, suffocating yet intoxicating. "It's a warning."
Elena tilted her head, refusing to retreat. "Funny. I thought it was a compliment."
For the briefest second, something flickered in his eyes—heat, hunger, a crack in the ice. His hand brushed against her arm, fleeting but scorching. He pulled back instantly, as if burned.
"Careful, Elena," he said, his voice rougher than usual. "You're playing with things you don't understand."
Her lips curved into a daring smile. "Maybe I understand more than you think."
The silence stretched, charged with unspoken tension. Then Adrian stepped back, turning away, as though distance could restore control. "Go to bed."
She lingered a moment, then turned, her footsteps echoing as she left the study. But her heart beat faster than she wanted to admit.
Behind her, Adrian stood motionless, his hands clenched, his jaw tight. He had touched her for less than a second, but it was enough. Enough to unravel the discipline he had built his empire on.
For years, Adrian Blake had been untouchable. Now, his wife was the one thing he couldn't seem to resist.
That night, Adrian lay awake, staring at the ceiling.
Her words echoed in his mind. Her smirk haunted him. Her defiance lit something inside him he couldn't extinguish.
He told himself again and again it was nothing. A distraction. A temporary intrigue.
But the truth clawed at him, relentless.
He didn't want to let her go.
And that terrified him more than any rival ever had.