Adrian had always been good at studying people. It was a skill that had kept him alive in boardrooms and hostile negotiations, a skill that had built empires out of scraps. But this….this was different. This wasn‟t strategy. This wasn‟t business. This was hunger.
For the next few days, he followed Elena. Not carelessly, not like some fumbling shadow. No….he followed her the way a predator studies its prey: patient, calculating, relentless.
The first morning, he was parked across from her building by six a.m., a paper cup of coffee cooling in his hand. He watched the windows. By seven-thirty, the curtains moved. By eight, Nora emerged first, stepping out with a sharp coat over her shoulders and a phone already pressed to her ear. She didn‟t glance around, but Adrian noticed the caution in her steps, the way she scanned the street even while talking. Then, at eight-fifteen, Elena stepped out. She was wearing a soft cream sweater and holding her stick, tapping lightly on the path as if painting the edges of the world with sound. Her head was raised, expression calm, lips pressed together as if she was smiling.
Adrian‟s grip tightened on his cup. She moved with such certainty, and yet such fragility. The crowd parted for her naturally, some slowing, some watching longer than they should. He hated the way they looked at her….either pitying or curious, never seeing her the way he did. He followed at a distance as she walked two blocks east, then stopped outside a corner café. The door jingled as she entered, and he slipped inside after her.
The barista greeted her by name. "Elena! Same as usual?"
Her smile widened. "Yes, please. Thank you."
Adrian filed it away. She comes here often enough to be known. She orders the same thing every time. He watched her fingers brush across the counter as she handed over her card, careful, precise. The barista, a tall young man with a lazy grin, lingered a little too long on her smile. Adrian memorized his face. By the time her drink was ready, Adrian had positioned himself at a table near the back, hidden behind the glow of his laptop. Elena carried her cup to the corner, sliding into a chair as if she‟d done it a hundred times. She sat there quietly, sipping, occasionally tilting her head when the door rang with another customer. Fifteen minutes later, Nora reappeared, a bag in hand. She slid into the chair opposite Elena.
"Here…croissant. Still warm," Nora said.
Elena laughed softly. "You spoil me."
"It‟s called keeping you fed. Someone has to."
Their voices were woven together like the threads of something old and familiar. Adrian listened in ignorance. He heard parts of the conversation... Nora was teasing, Elena was insisting that she would handle everything herself, but Nora was not ready to agree. As the two of them walked along, Adrian got up and followed them, mingling with the strangers. Over the next week, he built a map of Elena‟s life.
Morning routine: wake by seven, piano for an hour, café at eight fifteen, teaching lessons mid-morning. Students: three children on Mondays and Thursdays, two teenagers on Wednesdays, an older woman on Fridays. He observed them all, storing names and faces in his mind.
Afternoons: sometimes a walk in the park with Nora, sometimes errands with her cane tapping steadily against the pavement, sometimes returning home early to play piano until the light dimmed.
Evenings: dinners with Nora more often than not. Occasionally alone. Always locking the door carefully before heading to bed. Adrian noted every detail, every pattern, every moment where she stayed too long in thought. He noticed the things she couldn‟t. Like the man at the grocery store who brushed too close and stared too long. Adrian followed him once, just long enough to learn his name, his routine. A single call to one of Adrian‟s men, and that man would never set foot in that grocery store again.
Like the student‟s father who laughed too loudly at her jokes, leaning in as though she could feel his smile. Adrian watched the exchange from the hallway, his jaw clenching. He memorized his license plate before leaving. No one touched her world without him knowing. One evening, Elena sat on a park bench with Nora, listening to the steady trickling of the fountain. The air was warm, and the sounds of the city faded as the evening fell.
"It feels like everything changes too fast," Elena murmured. "I blink, and the whole world shifts."
"You don‟t blink," Nora teased gently.
Elena laughed, shaking her head. "You know what I mean. I want something that doesn‟t move, that doesn‟t disappear."
Nora squeezed her hand. "You have me."
Adrian, watching from the path behind the trees, felt something coil tight in his chest. He wanted to step out, to replace Nora‟s hand with his. He wanted Elena to say those words to him instead. But not yet. Patience was the sharpest blade he owned. Back in his penthouse, Adrian filled his office wall with her life. A map of the neighborhood, marked with her favorite café, her students‟ addresses, the park bench where she sat most often.
Notes scrawled in black ink: 7:00 piano. 8:15 café. 10:00 lesson (Jacob, 9 yrs). Photographs, printed and pinned, of Elena walking, laughing, sitting with Nora.
It wasn‟t enough to see her. He needed to understand her. To weave himself into her days so seamlessly she wouldn‟t know where she ended and he began. Standing before the wall, he whispered her name once, softly, like a prayer.
"Elena."
Meanwhile, Elena remained unaware. Her days unfolded in gentle rhythm, her focus on the keys of the piano, on her students‟ laughter, on Nora‟s protective warmth. She didn‟t notice the man who stayed just long enough to hear her voice in the café. She didn‟t notice the expensive car that seemed to idle a street away each night. She couldn‟t. But Adrian did. Every smile, every word, every step…he carried them inside him, building a picture of her that no one else had. And with each detail, the line between fascination and possession blurred, until there was no line at all. By the end of that second week, Adrian knew more about Elena than most people who had been in her life for years. He knew she hummed under her breath while waiting for water to boil. He knew she tilted her head to the left whenever she was thinking deeply. He knew she never touched the right side of her bed, always curling on the left, leaving space beside her empty. That empty space haunted him.
Because Adrian was already certain….someday, soon, it wouldn‟t be empty anymore. The second week bled into the third, and Adrian‟s fascination
calcified into something harder. He no longer thought of it as watching. He thought of it as studying. Claiming. Preparing. Each morning, he was there when Elena stepped out of her building. Each night, he remained until her lights went dark. He told himself it was precaution … ensuring her safety, making sure the city‟s filth never touched her. But beneath that justification, something even more fundamental was beating. She was his. Even if she didn‟t know it yet. On a foggy Tuesday, raindrops were pelting the streets and the city was bustling under the shade of umbrellas. Adrian was sitting in
his car, a shiny black vehicle parked right below the cafe. Through the misted glass, he watched Elena enter, her cane tapping gently. Her sweater clung to her in the damp air, curls of hair dampening against her cheek. She ordered the same drink. Sat in the same corner. And yet … Adrian noticed a shift. She wasn‟t humming this time. She sat still, thoughtful, lips pursed.
Nora arrived late, dropping a wet umbrella beside her chair. "Sorry," she said, breathless. "Meeting ran over."
Elena tilted her head. "You‟re forgiven. Barely."
Adrian smiled faintly, unseen. He liked their rhythm, the way Nora‟s sharpness met Elena‟s softness. But he also recognized Nora as a problem. Nora‟s gaze was too alert, too suspicious. More than once, he had seen her glance toward the window as if she could feel him there, invisible in the crowd.
He didn‟t like Nora‟s instincts. That evening, Adrian followed Elena to the small conservatory where she gave lessons. He stayed in the hallway outside the practice room, leaning casually against the wall as her voice carried through the door.
"Try again. Gentle on the keys. Music breathes, remember?"
One child giggled in response, and then a simple melody began, with a lovely, intermittent pause. Adrian closed his eyes. He could picture Elena‟s hands moving across the piano, guiding the small ones beside her. He didn‟t have to see … her voice painted it for him. When the lesson was over, Elena stepped out, making a light clatter of her cane as she stepped into the shadow of the staircase. A mother greeted her warmly, her child tugging at her sleeve. Adrian memorized their faces, too, though his attention quickly waned. They didn‟t matter. Only she did. By the fourth week, Adrian‟s wall in his penthouse was nearly covered. Maps. Photos. Notes. A piece of sheet music she had left behind once, retrieved carefully by one of his men and delivered to him. He stood before it late at night, whiskey in hand, staring at the collage of her life.
"She‟s beautiful," one of his associates had remarked once, catching a glimpse of the photographs.
Adrian‟s head had snapped so fast the man flinched. "You don‟t look," Adrian said flatly.
The associate swallowed. "Of course, sir."
Adrian had dismissed him after that. Permanently. Because Elena wasn‟t an object to be admired by anyone else. She was his study, his secret. His alone. One Friday evening, Adrian took a greater risk.
Elena and Nora had walked to the park again, stopping near the fountain. Adrian followed at a distance, then sat on a bench across the square, close enough to hear fragments of their talk.
"You‟ve been quiet lately," Nora said.
"I‟ve been thinking," Elena replied.
"About what?"
There was a pause, filled with the rush of water and the laughter of children nearby. Then Elena said softly, "The man I met that night."
Adrian‟s pulse quickened.
Nora tensed visibly. "What about him?"
Elena smiled faintly. "Nothing. Just… his voice. It stuck with me."
Nora's eyes darted around the park, quick, restless. "Don‟t romanticize strangers, Lena. It‟s dangerous."
Elena laughed, brushing it off. "It was just a moment. I‟m not planning my wedding."
Adrian‟s hands curled into fists on his knees. He had to bite back the urge to stand, to walk over, to tell her she didn‟t need to imagine … he was right there. Not yet. Not until the moment was perfect. Nora remained a thorn. Adrian could feel her suspicions growing every day. She escorted Elena home like a guard, her eyes darting around. Twice she stopped abruptly, turned and looked down the street. Adrian melted into shadows, but the sharpness of her movements told him she sensed something. It only hardened his resolve. Nora‟s role in Elena‟s life was temporary. She might think herself guardian, protector … but she didn‟t understand. Adrian did. Elena didn‟t need to be guarded. She needed to be possessed. That night, Adrian stood again outside Elena‟s building. A little light was coming in through the curtains on the windows, her image was moving around the room. Nora's shadow was there too, walking, gesturing. Their voices were muffled by the open window above the street.
"I‟m telling you, Lena, someone‟s been watching."
Elena‟s laugh. "Nora, you‟re Crazy."
"Maybe. But I can feel it. Eyes on us. On you."
Adrian‟s lips curved faintly. He admired Nora's instincts, even though he hated them. She wasn‟t wrong. But Elena didn‟t believe her … and that was all that mattered.
Elena‟s voice floated out again, softer this time. "Even if someone was… they can‟t hurt me. I‟m not worth that kind of trouble."
Adrian‟s jaw clenched. Not worth? She had no idea.
He stayed there until the lights dimmed, the curtain moved, and the street became empty. Only then did he step away, his mind already plotting the next move. Adrian wasn‟t satisfied with watching anymore. He needed more. A touch of closeness. A chance word. A subtle presence that would carry him through her days without her even realizing it. The time for distance was ending. The time for entry was coming. And when it came, nothing … not Nora‟s suspicion, not Elena‟s blindness, not the city itself … would keep away him from her. Adrian started experimenting with proximity. It began small. At the café, he timed his arrival so that when he arrived he would already be seated near her usual table. Laptop open, phone pressed to his ear, he looked like every other businessman glued to numbers and screens. But his eyes were never on the glow of the monitor. They were on her.
The barista knew her order by heart. Adrian knew it by the way her lips formed the words. He watched her fingers brush the countertop, always seeking the edge, always grounding herself.
And when she passed by his table, he shifted slightly, just enough to catch the faint brush of air from her movement, just enough for the scent of her shampoo … lavender with a hint of something citrus … to drift toward him. She never noticed him. Not really. But she would.
On Wednesday, he followed her to the conservatory again. Instead of waiting outside the practice room, he slipped into the seat at the far end of the hallway, where the sound carried clearly. He closed his eyes as she spoke to her student, guiding hands over keys he couldn‟t see but could imagine. Her teaching voice was softer, tender, coaxing.
"Don‟t rush. Let it breathe. Music is like talking. If you rush, no one hears the meaning."
Adrian leaned his head back against the wall, a smile tugging at his lips. He imagined her saying that to him … telling him to slow down, to breathe, to listen. If only she knew how closely he already did. He began tracking Nora more deliberately too. He was fast, always running from one obligation to the next, always orbiting Elena like a planet bound to its sun. Adrian dug deeper … her job at a local publishing house, her late nights editing manuscripts, the man she occasionally argued with over the phone. Adrian noted every number she dialed, every address she visited, every weakness in her schedule. Because Nora was a threat to his hold. And threats didn‟t last long in Adrian‟s world. One night, after a lesson ended, Adrian followed Elena and Nora home. The two women walked side by side, their conversation quiet, swallowed by the hum of passing traffic.
"I think I scared one of my students today," Elena said in a guilty voice.
"You? Scare someone? Impossible," Nora replied.
"I raised my voice. Just a little. But he flinched."
Nora squeezed her arm. "You care too much. That‟s your problem. You think every frown is the end of the world."
Elena sighed. "Maybe."
Adrian followed close behind, close enough to catch every word. He loved these small confessions, the things Elena shared so freely with Nora. He imagined one day she would share these things with him, her voice soft in the dark, her secrets for his ears only. When they reached the apartment building, Adrian stayed across the street again, lighting another cigarette he didn‟t want. He watched them disappear inside, the door closing with a click. He stayed long after, staring at the window until the light in Elena‟s room went dark. He imagined her curled in bed, her breathing steady, the sheets pulled high to her chin. Alone. Always alone. The thought both calmed him and angered him. Because she shouldn‟t be alone. She should be with him. The walls of his penthouse filled up even more. New photos joined the collage. Elena laughing at something Nora said on a park bench. Elena tilting her head toward the sound of a violinist in the subway, lips parting as if the music belonged to her alone. Elena carrying groceries up the steps, balancing the bag against her hip with ease.
He studied the pictures late at night, tracing the outlines with his eyes. Some men kept art. Adrian kept Elena. By the fifth week, he could predict her steps before she took them. He knew when she would turn left at the café corner, when she would pause at the crosswalk and tilt her head toward the rush of cars. He knew the exact moment her hand would lift the key to her apartment lock. It thrilled him. This power. This intimacy she hadn‟t chosen but that he had claimed. He had memorized her life so fully, she might as well have already belonged to him. And yet, Adrian wanted more. He wanted her to sense him. To feel something she couldn‟t explain, like a shift in the air, a presence close enough to touch. So one evening, as she left the conservatory, Adrian walked a little closer. Close enough that the echo of his footsteps matched hers. Close enough that the faint heat of his body might brush against her awareness. She paused. Turned her head slightly, brows furrowing.
"Nora?" she asked softly.
Adrian froze. She was listening … too closely, too intently. After a long moment, she shook her head and kept walking, cane tapping once more.
Adrian exhaled slowly. A smile curved his lips. She had felt him. Not enough to name. But enough to notice.
It was the beginning. At home that night, Nora confronted Elena again.
"You‟ve been distracted," Nora said, pacing the kitchen.
Elena stirred her tea, calm as ever. "I‟m fine."
"You keep turning your head, like you‟re looking for someone. Did something happen?"
Elena hesitated. "Once or twice, I thought… maybe I wasn‟t alone."
Nora stopped pacing. "What do you mean?"
Elena shook her head quickly. "It‟s nothing. Probably just me being jumpy."
Nora frowned. "Or not."
Adrian, listening from the fire escape outside, felt the satisfaction curl in his chest. Elena sensed him even if she didn‟t admit it. She knew, somewhere deep inside, that someone was near. And that someone was him. The city continued to move around them, unaware of the bond forming between hunter and prey. To the baristas and students and neighbors, Elena was simply a young woman living her life. But to Adrian, she was already marked. Already chosen. He was the gravity she hadn‟t yet recognized. And the longer he watched, the harder it became to imagine a world where she didn‟t
belong to him completely. The time for watching was ending. The time for entry was coming.
And Adrian never failed once he decided to take something as his. Adrian‟s days became divided into two categories: time with Elena, and time waiting for Elena. In the mornings he would rise before dawn, exercising in silence, looking over the endless contracts and reports demanded by his
empire. But he was no longer focused on the numbers. His board members could argue and bicker all they wanted, his advisers could argue their case for billion-dollar merger decisions, and Adrian would nod, sign, dismiss.… because all the while, he was thinking about her. By eight, he was outside her building. By eight-fifteen, she was on the move, cane tapping, steps precise. And Adrian followed. Every single day. On Thursday morning, he followed her to the café. He was so close now that when the doorbell rang, they entered together…her delicate steps, his long strides. For the first time, his shoulder brushed against hers as he walked forward.
"Sorry," he murmured, voice pitched low.
Her head tilted, brows furrowed. Her lips parted as though the sound had triggered a memory. Adrian kept moving forward, straight back to his desk, his heart beating in a way business never had made it do before. she remembered his voice. He knew it from the way she paused a second longer before giving the order. That was all he needed. A seed planted. Later that day, he watched as she gave a lesson to a teenager named Maya.
"Music is like trust," Elena told her. "It only works if you let go. If you try to control every note, it breaks."
Adrian‟s jaw tightened. Trust. Letting go. He imagined her saying those words to him, imagined her surrendering everything into his hands, imagined her blind eyes turning to him with complete dependence. The thought settled into him like fire. Nora, of course, remained the shadow at Elena‟s side. Adrian had started following her separately, testing her patterns. She often worked late, dragging herself home with tired eyes and sharp words. On those nights, Elena was left alone. Adrian tasted them … Watching Elena walk around the apartment wearing slippers, curl on the couch with a blanket, play the piano for no one but herself.
Those were the moments he felt closest to her. Those were the moments he whispered her name into the darkness of his car.
One Saturday evening, Adrian tracked them both to the park. Children ran in circles, their shouts echoing, But Adrian's attention was focused on the two women sitting next to each other on the bench.
"I think you need someone," Nora was saying. "You can‟t spend your whole life with just me and your students."
Elena laughed softly. "And who do you suggest? You?"
"You‟re not my type," Nora teased, though her tone was heavy. "I‟m serious, Lena. What about dating?"
Elena shook her head. "Who would want the complication of me?"
Adrian‟s hands flexed against his thighs. His pulse surged with something sharp and dangerous.Who would want her? Everyone should want her. But only he deserved her.
That night, Adrian poured himself a drink in his penthouse and stared at the wall of her life. Her photographs smiled back at him, oblivious.
"You don‟t know yet," he murmured. "But you‟re mine already."
His reflection in the glass was sharp, cold. His empire, his fortune, his reputation … none of it had ever felt as vital as the thought of Elena‟s hand in his. The next week, he began testing distance more aggressively. On Monday, as she walked to the conservatory, he walked so close that her stick clattered on the pavement just a few steps ahead of his. She stopped once, brow furrowed, lips parted as if she sensed him.
"Is someone there?" she whispered, voice so soft he barely caught it.
Adrian's heart skipped a beat. He wanted to respond, to reach out and take her right then and there. But he forced himself to, suppressing his desire until the taste of iron filled his mouth. She shook her head and kept walking. And Adrian smiled. Because doubts had begun to take root. Nora noticed too. She was sharper than Adrian liked. Twice that week, she turned suddenly across the street and stared at the crowd. Her eyes narrowed as if she sensed someone slipping out of her reach.
One evening, as they climbed the stairs to their apartment, Adrian caught Nora‟s voice through the open hall window.
"He‟s out there," she whispered fiercely.
Elena sighed. "Nora…."
"I mean it. Someone‟s following us."
Elena‟s laugh was tired, almost sad. "Then let them. Maybe they‟re just making sure I don‟t get run over."
Nora swore under her breath. "You trust too easily."
Adrian leaned against the wall outside, listening with a faint smirk. Elena trusted. That was his advantage. Nora‟s doubts meant nothing if Elena opened the door herself.
One evening, Elena stayed on the balcony outside her apartment, her face tilted toward the night air. The city hummed beneath her, the lights flickered, and she breathed in as if she were tasting a life she couldn‟t see. Adrian watched from across the street. He imagined him climbing the fire escape ladder, stepping onto that balcony, and placing his hand on her back. She wouldn't see him, but she would feel him. She would turn her face toward him, her blind eyes searching for the source of the heat. And she‟d find him.
He whispered her name again into the night, letting it hang there between them, unheard but real.
"Elena."
By now, Adrian‟s men were restless. His businesses needed him. His name was whispered in corners of boardrooms across continents. But Adrian no longer cared. The empire could wait. Elena couldn‟t. Nora was the last true obstacle, and Adrian knew it. She hovered too close, guarding too strictly. But Nora had cracks too. Long hours. Late nights. A tendency to underestimate how carefully Adrian was watching her, too. He knew, soon, he‟d find the perfect opening. And when he did, Nora would be gone.
By the time the second month closed, Adrian had transformed from a man who simply followed into a man who breathed her life as if it were his own. He could predict her laughter, her pauses, her sighs. He could close his eyes and hear her footsteps on the pavement, each tap of her cane distinct. He no longer wondered if she‟d be his. He wondered only when. And when that moment comes, when he decides to step out of the shadows and into the light, Elena will have no choice but to trust him. Because trust was the only thing she‟d ever known how to give. And Adrian would take it all.
Adrian stood at the edge of the conservatory lawn, leaning against the cold iron fence. His black coat blended into the night, his figure a shadow among shadows. Through the tall glass windows, he could see her. Elena sat at the grand piano, her head tilted slightly as her hands danced across the keys. The room was empty now, the students gone, only her left. She wasn‟t rehearsing for anyone. This was hers, music spun into existence like a secret prayer.
Adrian closed his eyes, letting the tunes sink into him. Every keystroke became a beat, every rise and fall of her melody a command. He was helpless beneath her, tied to the invisible threads of her sound. It terrified him. And it thrilled him. Because this wasn‟t business. This wasn‟t strategy. This wasn‟t control. This was something else entirely .. and for the first time in his life, Adrian Novak realized he wanted something he couldn‟t buy, bully, or negotiate into his possession.
He wanted her. Not as a mistress, not as a trophy. He wanted Elena in the way a drowning man wanted air.
He followed her home that night, as always. But tonight he stayed longer. He saw the light in her window go out, and still he stayed, staring at the curtains that separated him from her sleep. Hours passed. His phone buzzed with urgent calls … Hong Kong, Zurich, Dubai. The world demanded Adrian Novak. But he didn‟t move. Until, at dawn, when her curtains parted and he caught a brief glimpse of her stretched figure, he took a quick drag, as if smoking his first cigarette after years of abstinence. She was becoming his drug. And he knew addiction always demanded Growth. Two days later, he followed Nora instead.
The sharp-eyed woman left Elena at the apartment, muttering something about groceries. Adrian followed her down the narrow streets, his steps were steady, his face calm. Nora had a habit of looking over her shoulder every few blocks.
She was suspicious, always on the alert. But Adrian had gone after men far more dangerous than her. She had never seen him. She never will. At the corner store, he was leaning against a lamppost, watching her through the glass. Nora was checking the prices with her fingers, her mouth hard. Defensive. Unbelieving. You're the only problem, Adrian thought. And problems can be solved.
His eyes shifted. Across the street, Elena was waiting outside the pharmacy, cane resting against her hip, head tilted as if she were listening for some familiar sound. Adrian‟s chest tightened. Two women … one guarding, one oblivious. One obstacle, one treasure. He knew which one mattered. That night, Adrian stood in front of his wall again. Now it was covered with photos... Elena in the cafe, Elena in the park, Elena walking with Nora, Elena sitting alone on her balcony. Pinned notes marked her schedule: lessons at ten, coffee at half past eight, walks in the park on weekends, grocery shopping every
other Thursday. It was perfect. Complete. A map of her existence, laid open before him. And yet, staring at it, Adrian felt the quit sting of dissatisfaction. The distance was no longer enough.
He wanted more than just her outline. He wanted the details that no camera could capture... the warmth of her skin, the rhythm of her pulse, the vibration of her breath as she laughed. Soon, he promised himself. Soon. The turning point came unexpectedly.
The next morning it was raining. Adrian followed her to the conservatory, but halfway up the street her stick got caught in a loose grate. She stumbled forward, and she gasped softly. Before he could think, he was moving. His hand caught her arm, steadying her just before she hit the pavement.
"Careful," he murmured.
Her head turned quickly. Her pale eyes were fixed on him, searching, though they could not see.
"Thank you," she whispered, her fingers brushing his sleeve as she found her balance. "I didn‟t hear you coming."
Adrian‟s lips curved. "Not everyone makes noise."
Her brow furrowed, but she smiled slightly and gripped her cane more tightly. And then she was gone again, walking ahead, leaving Adrian standing in the rain with her touch still burning into his skin. It was a fleeting moment. A touch of fingers. A word of thanks. But it gave him a light that nothing else ever had. And it decided everything. That night, Adrian sat at his desk, staring at his reflection in the dark glass of his office window.
"You can‟t stay a shadow," he told himself. His voice was low, steady, the same voice that had once convinced nations to bend. "Not anymore. She has to know you. Trust you. Depend on you." He leaned forward, hands clasped. "But not as me. Not yet. Adrian Novak would frighten her. Adrian
Novak would overwhelm her. She doesn‟t need a billionaire. She needs someone safe. Someone ordinary."
The thought was rising inside him intensely and intoxicatingly. A mask. He would step into her world not as Adrian Novak, ruthless magnate, but as someone else … a man she could lean on without fear. And once she trusted him… Once she let him inside…There would be no escape.
He leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes. The rain drummed against the glass. In the quiet, he pictured Elena‟s face … the curve of her lips, the way her head tilted when she listened. His jaw tightened.
"This is where it begins," he whispered. And in that moment, the stalking ended. The hunt would become something far more dangerous. Because obsession, once starved, never stays patient. It devours.