The gala still buzzed around them, but Amaya couldn't shake the echo of Adrian's words, the heat of his touch. She stood near the balcony doors, trying to calm her racing heart when suddenly—his shadow fell over her.
"Running away already?" Adrian's voice was low, mocking.
She stiffened. "I wasn't aware standing alone meant running."
He stepped closer, caging her in without touching her. The scent of his cologne wrapped around her, sharp and intoxicating. His eyes, dark and unyielding, pinned her in place.
"You should know something, Amaya." His lips curved into a dangerous smile. "I don't share."
Her chest tightened. "Share? Don't flatter yourself. You mean nothing to me."
The words burned her tongue, but Adrian only chuckled, as if amused by her defiance. He leaned in, his breath grazing her ear.
"Then why does your body betray you every time I come close?"
She pushed against his chest, glaring. "You're delusional."
But the flicker in his eyes turned darker, possessive. "Maybe. Or maybe I've just decided you're mine, whether you admit it or not."
Her breath caught. For a terrifying second, she saw it—his obsession, raw and consuming. The enemy she had sworn to hate wasn't just a man anymore. He was a storm, one that threatened to drown her.
"I'd rather burn," she whispered, her voice shaking.
Adrian's smirk deepened, though his gaze burned with something fiercer than victory. "Then I'll be the fire."
Before she could answer, someone called her name from across the hall. The moment broke, but his words lingered, searing her heart with dangerous heat.