Elena's POV
The ride home was too quiet. Too heavy.
The hum of the engine was the only sound in the car, a steady vibration beneath the leather seats, but it only seemed to amplify the silence between us. The chauffeur drove smoothly, eyes glued to the road, but in the backseat, the air was thick enough to choke on.
Adrian sat opposite me, his broad frame filling the space, his posture carved from stone. He was angled slightly toward the window, but I could feel his eyes on me. Always watching. Always dissecting.
The city passed in streaks of neon and shadow, buildings flickering by like fragments of a dream. Normally, I found comfort in watching the skyline, in pretending the blur of the outside world could drown out the storm inside me. But not tonight. Tonight, every nerve in my body was strung tight, alert to the man beside me.
I smoothed the folds of my dress, feigning calm. "You didn't need to interfere earlier," I said finally, my tone light, dismissive. "I had everything under control."
His voice cut through the quiet, smooth and sharp all at once. "Under control?" He turned his head, his eyes catching mine in the dim light. "Naomi invited the press to corner you. That was her plan. You call that control?"
I forced a smirk, my lips curving even as my stomach clenched. "She tried. That's the difference. Last time, I would have stumbled. This time, I made her choke on her own performance."
His gaze didn't waver. It was the kind of stare that made you feel bare, stripped down to your bones. He had always been like this—cold, quiet, intimidating—but now it was different. Now it felt personal.
I looked away, pretending to admire the skyline, though my pulse betrayed me, thudding recklessly.
That was when I felt it.
His hand shifted against the seat, his fingers brushing the inside of my wrist. Barely a touch, just a test, but it was enough to send a shiver racing up my arm. My breath caught before I could stop it.
I tilted my head slowly, hiding the chaos inside me behind a smirk. "Careful, Mr. Blake," I murmured, my voice dripping with mockery. "Touch me like that, and people might think you actually want me."
For a moment, I thought he would pull back. That he would retreat into that cold mask he wore so well. But instead, his eyes darkened, a dangerous glint sparking within them.
"And if I did?" he asked softly.
My smirk faltered. Just slightly. My heart stuttered in my chest, betraying me. He wasn't supposed to say that. He wasn't supposed to push back.
I swallowed, forcing a light laugh past the tightness in my throat. "Then I'd say you've finally lost your mind."
But deep down, I wasn't laughing.
Because the way he looked at me right then—like I was something he wanted to consume—wasn't the look of a man losing his mind. It was the look of a man who knew exactly what he wanted.
Adrian's POV
She thought she was clever. She thought she could taunt me, provoke me, and walk away unscathed. But Elena had no idea how transparent she was to me.
I saw it in the way her pulse jumped when my fingers brushed her wrist. I heard it in the slight hitch of her breath. She hid behind her smirks and her sharp tongue, but her body told the truth.
Leaning back, I let my hand linger just a little longer than necessary, my thumb tracing the soft skin of her wrist. The rapid thrum of her heartbeat pounded against my touch, mocking her calm façade.
"Do you enjoy provoking me?" I asked, my voice low, deliberate.
Her lips parted, her smirk sharp as ever. "Why? Am I getting under your skin?"
If only she knew. If only she understood just how deep under my skin she already was.
I almost laughed, but the sound died in my throat. Instead, I leaned in slightly, letting my voice drop to a whisper meant only for her. "You've been under my skin from the start."
Her composure cracked, just for a heartbeat. Her breath caught, her eyes widening the smallest fraction before she recovered, masking it with defiance. But I saw it. I always saw it.
God, I wanted to kiss her. To drag that smirk off her lips and replace it with gasps, with soft sounds only I could pull from her. I wanted to ruin the distance she kept between us, to brand her until she could no longer pretend indifference.
But I didn't. My fingers flexed against the seat, my grip tightening until my knuckles whitened. Because I knew—if I touched her more, if I started—I wouldn't stop. And if I didn't stop, I'd consume her entirely.
So I forced myself back, retreating into control. For now.
Elena's POV
The silence pressed down again, heavier this time. I shifted my wrist, pulling away from his touch, slow and deliberate, as though unaffected. My lips curled in a mocking smile. "Well, that's unfortunate for you. Because you'll find me very difficult to get rid of once I'm under your skin."
His eyes glittered in the dark, unreadable, but I caught the way his jaw tightened, the muscle flexing as though he were holding back words—or something else entirely.
The car slowed, pulling into the long driveway of the Blake estate. Relief and disappointment tangled in my chest. Relief that the ride was over. Disappointment that… that it was over.
The chauffeur stopped smoothly in front of the mansion.
I gathered my clutch, steadying my breath. My smirk stayed in place even though my pulse hadn't calmed. "Goodnight, Adrian."
My voice was sweet, deliberately mocking. I stepped out before he could answer, the night air hitting me like a splash of cold water.
The heavy doors of the mansion loomed ahead, but instead of walking straight inside, I paused at the entrance, pressing my back against the cool wood once the butler closed the doors behind me. My hands trembled slightly, my heart still racing from the closeness in the car.
Stay focused, I whispered to myself. He's not the goal. Don't forget why you came back.
But no matter how many times I repeated it, the warmth of his touch lingered on my skin, searing.
Adrian's POV
The door shut behind her, and the car was plunged into silence again.
I sat in the darkness, my pulse a steady roar in my ears. My fingers curled into a fist where they had touched her.
She thought she walked away untouched. She thought she had won this round with her mocking smirks and sharp words.
But she was wrong.
She was already under my skin. In my thoughts. In my veins.
I reached for the bottle of whiskey stored in the car's compartment, pouring a glass with steady hands even as my chest burned. The amber liquid swirled under the dim light, but it did nothing to dull the image of her—defiant, untouchable, yet trembling beneath her mask.
I downed the drink in one swallow, the burn fierce in my throat. My reflection in the glass caught my eye—controlled, cold, dangerous. But behind the mask, I knew the truth.
Leaning back, I muttered into the silence, my voice dark, low, a promise only I could hear. "You'll regret provoking me, Elena."
And for the first time in years, I wasn't sure whether I meant it as a warning to her… or to myself.