The elevator ride down the next morning felt suffocating, as though the walls were closing in around Amara. She hadn't slept much, not after what had happened in Adrian's office. Every time she closed her eyes, she felt his mouth on hers, the heat of his hand at her neck, the way his voice had broken when he called it a mistake. Her lips still tingled, phantom traces of his kiss taunting her with questions she didn't dare answer.
She tried to bury herself in work, arriving earlier than usual and hiding behind her computer screen, but it was impossible to ignore the atmosphere in the office. The whispers were louder now, sharper. Someone had seen her leave Adrian's office late. Someone else claimed they had spotted the two of them in the lobby together after hours.
By mid-morning, Amara was drowning in the speculation. Claudia stopped by her desk, eyes cool and assessing. "You should learn to be more discreet," she said quietly, her tone not cruel but pointed.
Amara's head snapped up, her face flushing. "It isn't what you think."
Claudia's lips curved in something like pity. "It never is. Until it is." She walked away without waiting for a reply, leaving Amara shaken and struggling to breathe.
Inside his office, Adrian was the opposite of her turmoil—cold, distant, all business. He gave instructions with his usual precision, his gaze never lingering on her longer than necessary. If she hadn't known better, she would have thought the kiss had never happened. But she had felt the fire in it, the hunger that belied his composed exterior. Pretending it hadn't happened only made the ache sharper.
At lunch, she escaped to the roof terrace, needing fresh air. The city stretched out endlessly before her, a glittering maze of glass and steel. She gripped the railing, eyes closed against the dizzying weight of everything.
"Amara."
Her eyes flew open at the sound of his voice. Adrian stood a few steps away, his suit jacket unbuttoned, the wind tugging lightly at his tie. For once, he looked less like the untouchable titan and more like a man carrying something too heavy.
She straightened, bracing herself. "Mr. Kane."
His lips twitched faintly, though his eyes stayed stormy. "Formality suits you, but it doesn't suit us."
Her breath caught. "There is no us."
"Exactly." He moved closer, each step deliberate, until he was near enough that she had to tilt her chin to meet his gaze. "Last night should not have happened."
Her heart stuttered. "But it did."
Something flickered in his eyes, quickly masked. "And it won't again."
Anger flared through her, surprising her with its heat. "You don't get to dictate how I feel. You kissed me, Adrian. Don't stand there and act like it was nothing."
The sound of his name on her lips seemed to shake him. For a moment, silence stretched between them, charged with tension. His jaw tightened, his hand flexing at his side as though resisting the urge to reach for her.
Finally, he said, softer now, "Feelings are dangerous. For both of us. If you let them take root, they'll destroy you."
Her eyes burned, but she refused to look away. "Maybe it's not the feelings that are dangerous. Maybe it's the walls you keep building around them."
He stared at her, his expression unreadable, then turned sharply away. "Get back to work, Miss Reyes." His voice was clipped again, formal, shutting her out. He left her standing on the terrace, her heart pounding with anger and hurt.
That evening, as she packed her things, she noticed an unfamiliar envelope tucked beneath her notebook. Her name was written across it in bold, blocky letters. No return address. No indication of who had left it.
Curiosity battled with unease. She tore it open and pulled out a single sheet of paper.
Stay away from him. Or you'll regret it.
Her blood ran cold.
She scanned the office, but most people had already left. The floor was quiet, dimly lit. Clutching the note, she shoved it into her bag and hurried out, her pulse thrumming in her ears.
The city streets were crowded, yet she felt exposed, as though unseen eyes were watching her. She kept glancing over her shoulder until she finally reached her apartment and locked the door behind her.
Sofia was in the kitchen, humming as she cooked, but stopped when she saw Amara's face. "What's wrong?"
Amara hesitated, then handed her the note.
Sofia's eyes widened. "Ama… this is serious. Someone's threatening you."
Her hands shook as she poured herself a glass of water. "Because of Adrian. Because of what they think I am to him."
"You have to tell him," Sofia insisted.
Amara shook her head quickly. "No. He already warned me that people would come after me. If I show him this, he'll just… shut me out even more. He'll think I can't handle it."
Sofia crossed her arms. "Or maybe he'll realize you're in real danger and actually protect you."
Amara couldn't answer. Because part of her feared that Adrian would protect his empire before he protected her.
The next day, exhaustion clung to her, but she forced herself through the motions. She avoided Adrian's gaze, burying herself in work, determined to prove she was strong enough to stand on her own. But the note burned in her bag like a secret she couldn't ignore.
In the late afternoon, she was summoned into Adrian's office again. He stood by the window, staring out at the skyline. "We're meeting with investors tonight," he said without preamble. "You'll be joining me."
Her pulse jumped. "Me?"
"Yes. After last night, you're already in the spotlight. Keeping you close will help me control the narrative."
She bit back a retort. Control. That was what everything boiled down to with him. But she swallowed her pride and nodded. "Understood."
His gaze shifted to her then, sharp and searching. For a fleeting second, it softened. "Are you sure you're all right?"
The note rose to her lips, but she stopped herself. Instead, she forced a small smile. "I'm fine."
He didn't look convinced, but he didn't press. "Good. Be ready at seven."
As she left his office, her bag heavy with its dangerous secret, she knew one thing with absolute certainty: the storm wasn't just circling Adrian anymore. It was closing in on her, and she had no idea how to survive it.