The storm had been brewing for weeks. Every sharp exchange, every smirk, every collision of will between them—it was all tinder waiting for a spark. And tonight, the spark finally caught flame.
Elena stood in the hallway outside Adrian's study, her pulse drumming in her throat. She should have gone upstairs, locked herself away, focused on her revenge. But something about the way he had looked at her earlier—the warning in his voice, the flicker of heat in his eyes—wouldn't leave her alone.
She pushed the door open without knocking.
Adrian was there, of course, still at his desk, but the papers lay forgotten. He sat with one hand pressed to his temple, his shirt collar undone, his tie tossed carelessly across the desk. His usual control looked frayed, like a mask cracking under too much strain.
His head lifted at the sound of her footsteps. Their eyes met.
"Couldn't sleep?" she asked lightly.
"You shouldn't be here." His voice was low, rough, as though he had been speaking to ghosts before she walked in.
Elena's lips curved. "Maybe I should. Maybe this is exactly where I'm supposed to be."
She crossed the room slowly, deliberately, her heels clicking against the hardwood. Adrian's gaze followed her every step, sharp, guarded, dangerous. When she stopped in front of his desk, he leaned back in his chair, as if putting distance between them would weaken the pull.
It didn't.
"What game are you playing, Elena?"
"The same one you are," she replied smoothly. "Pretending not to care."
His jaw tightened. "You think you know me?"
"I think," she said, leaning forward just slightly, "I know exactly how much you hate losing control. And I think that's why you can't stand me. Because I make you feel like you might."
Silence. Thick. Electric.
Then Adrian moved.
He was on his feet in an instant, the chair scraping back. His hand shot out, gripping her wrist, dragging her closer until she was pressed against the edge of his desk. His eyes blazed down at her, colder than ice, hotter than fire.
"Careful," he murmured, his voice like a blade. "You don't know what line you're crossing."
Elena tilted her head, refusing to flinch. "Then show me."
Something snapped.
In one swift motion, Adrian pinned her against the wall. His body caged hers, his hand braced beside her head, his breath hot against her cheek. She could feel the restrained violence in him, the way he trembled on the edge between resistance and surrender.
"Elena…" His voice was harsh, dangerous, as if her name alone was enough to shatter him. "You drive me insane."
Her lips curved into a daring smile. "Good. Now you know how it feels."
His self-control broke.
Adrian's mouth crashed onto hers, fierce, demanding, a kiss that was less about affection and more about possession. It wasn't gentle. It wasn't careful. It was raw hunger, desperate and consuming, the kind of kiss that left no space to breathe.
Elena's fingers curled into his shirt, holding on even as her mind screamed she should push him away. This was dangerous. Reckless. Exactly what she had promised herself she wouldn't let happen.
And yet—her heart betrayed her.
She kissed him back.
The taste of him was intoxicating, a dark fire that spread through her veins. Every brush of his lips, every clash of teeth, every ragged breath tangled them tighter. For a moment, there was no revenge, no schemes, no icy walls between them. There was only heat.
Then Adrian tore his mouth away, his forehead pressed to hers, his chest heaving. His hand gripped her chin, tilting her face up so she couldn't look away.
"This," he growled, voice hoarse, "should never have happened."
Elena's lips tingled, swollen from his kiss. She smirked, though her heart was pounding so hard she thought he might hear it. "And yet it did."
His eyes darkened, a storm raging in their depths. "You think you can play me, Elena? You think you can use me for your little games?"
Her smirk widened, though her insides trembled. "Maybe I already am."
Adrian's grip tightened on her chin, his thumb brushing across her bruised lips. His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "Then you're even more reckless than I thought."
Elena leaned closer, her breath ghosting against his. "Maybe recklessness is exactly what you need."
For a second, he looked like he might kiss her again—harder, deeper, enough to burn them both to ash. But then he released her, stepping back as though distance could douse the fire still crackling between them.
"Go to bed," he ordered, his tone sharp, desperate for control.
Elena didn't move. She studied him, the man who was supposed to be cold, untouchable, yet now looked shaken, undone. And for the first time, she realized the truth: she wasn't the only one trapped in this dangerous game.
Adrian Blake, the man who ruled empires without blinking, was just as ensnared as she was.
Maybe more.
She gave him one last smile—taunting, victorious, but hiding the wild beating of her heart—before turning and walking out.
The door shut softly behind her.
Adrian stood frozen, his chest still heaving, his lips still burning with the memory of her taste. He ran a hand through his hair, cursed under his breath, and slammed his fist against the desk.
He had sworn never to let emotions control him. Never to let desire dictate his actions.
But tonight, with one reckless kiss, Elena had cracked the armor he had built for years.
And for the first time in his life, Adrian Blake realized something terrifying.
Elena closed her bedroom door and leaned against it, her chest rising and falling as though she had just escaped a battlefield. In a way, she had.
Her lips still burned.
Her heart still raced.
She pressed her fingers against her mouth, as if that could erase the memory of Adrian's kiss. But it lingered—hot, demanding, possessive. A kiss that had left her body trembling and her mind spinning.
"Idiot," she whispered to herself. "What were you thinking?"
This wasn't part of her plan. She was supposed to keep him at arm's length, to use the marriage as a shield while she dismantled her enemies piece by piece. Adrian Blake was a weapon, not a distraction.
And yet…
She moved to the mirror, her reflection staring back at her with wide, unsteady eyes. Her lips were swollen, her cheeks faintly flushed, her entire expression betraying a weakness she had sworn she'd buried.
He had kissed her like a man starved, like she was the one thing he couldn't control. And worse—she had kissed him back.
Her fingers clenched into fists at her sides. No. Don't be foolish. Don't let him undo you.
But the truth was harder to swallow: she had enjoyed it.
Her pulse had raced not with fear, but with something dangerously close to desire. For the first time since her rebirth, she wasn't thinking of revenge. She was thinking of him.
She threw herself onto the bed, pulling the blankets up as if they could smother her thoughts. But even in the darkness, she could feel him—the press of his body, the fire in his eyes, the way he had whispered her name like it was both a curse and a prayer.
Elena squeezed her eyes shut. She couldn't afford this. Not now. Not ever.
And yet… when sleep finally dragged her under, she dreamed not of her enemies, not of vengeance, but of Adrian Blake's lips on hers, stealing every piece of control she thought she had left.
He didn't want to let her go.
Not ever.