It had been just one day with Adrian Blake.
One single day.
And somehow, it was enough to dismantle every careless assumption Amelia had ever made about him.
She stood near the departure gates at the private terminal, fingers wrapped tightly around the handle of her carry-on, eyes flicking for the third time to the glowing screen of her phone.
5:57 a.m.
Her jaw tightened.
He had told her to be at the airport by 4 a.m. sharp.
Not 4:05.
Not "around four."
Not "give or take."
Four Sharp or she lose her job.
She had arrived at 3:45, heart racing, stomach tight with nerves, sleep clinging stubbornly to her lashes. She had stood straight, professional, alert, every inch the obedient employee he demanded.
And Adrian Blake?
He arrived at 6 a.m.
Two full hours late.
No apology.
No explanation.
Not even the courtesy of looking rushed.
She remembered the moment vividly.
