The city pulsed under a dark sky, neon lights reflecting in the wet streets from an earlier rain. Isabella clutched her bag tightly as she walked, her heels clicking nervously on the pavement. She shouldn't be here.
She knew it, and yet she couldn't stop herself.
Because he had told her to come.
Adrian Cole's message had been simple, written in neat, commanding script at the bottom of her red-marked paper:
Meet me at The Ascent. 9 PM. Don't be late.
The Ascent. She'd heard whispers about the name, an upscale private club where the city's elite gathered. Politicians, businessmen, and the kind of men you never wanted to owe money to. It wasn't a place for someone like her.
And yet here she was, standing outside its tall black doors with her pulse pounding in her throat.
The doorman gave her a slow, assessing look before stepping aside without a word. She wondered if Adrian had already told him she was coming.
Inside, the world changed.
Warm amber lights glowed against dark wood walls. Velvet drapes framed the room, and expensive cigars scented the air. The hum of low music mingled with the clink of glasses. Everywhere she looked, men in tailored suits lounged like kings while women in silk dresses leaned close, laughing too sweetly.
It was wealth. Power. Danger.
And in the center of it all, he stood.
Adrian Cole, no longer her professor in rolled-up sleeves, but something far more dangerous. He wore a black three-piece suit tonight, perfectly tailored, the silver of his cufflinks catching the light. He looked like he belonged to this place, like he ruled it.
His eyes found hers instantly. And when they did, it felt like the entire room disappeared.
"You came," he said when she approached, his voice low, silk over steel.
She swallowed. "I didn't have much of a choice, did I?"
His lips curved faintly. "Good. You're learning."
He offered his hand, palm up. For a moment she hesitated, then placed hers in it. His grip was firm, warm, possessive.
"Stay close to me," he murmured, guiding her deeper into the club. "And don't wander. You wouldn't like the kind of attention you'd get here."
Her stomach tightened, but she nodded.
They moved through the crowd, and Isabella became hyperaware of every touch, every brush of his hand against hers, every subtle claim he made simply by walking with her. Heads turned. Whispers trailed behind them. She felt their eyes on her, men assessing, women judging, but with Adrian at her side, no one dared approach.
He stopped near a corner booth, where a man with graying temples and sharp eyes stood to greet him. They shook hands firmly, exchanging quiet words. Isabella caught phrases, shipment, territory, loyalty, that made her blood run cold.
This wasn't just a social club. This was business. His business.
And still, her body betrayed her.
The heat of Adrian's hand lingering on her back. The way his deep voice curled through her spine. The subtle brush of his thumb against her wrist as he pulled her closer when another man's eyes lingered too long on her.
It was wrong. Every bit of it was wrong. But it made her heart pound, her skin ache, her breath catch.
She tried to conceal it, standing stiff and composed, pretending to be unaffected. But Adrian saw everything.
When the meeting ended, he guided her up a flight of stairs. The noise of the club dimmed as they reached a private balcony overlooking the city. The lights spread endlessly before them, glittering like stars trapped in glass.
Adrian leaned against the railing, loosening his tie with one hand. He looked devastatingly unrestrained, a man peeling away layers of civility.
"Do you understand now?" he asked, his eyes locked on hers.
"Understand what?" she whispered.
"My world." He gestured faintly toward the city, toward the club below. "Power. Control. Everything I touch bends to me. And now…" His gaze sharpened. "So do you."
Her breath hitched. "I don't belong here."
"You belong exactly where I put you," he countered, stepping closer. "And right now, that's here. With me."
Her pulse skittered. His presence was overwhelming, pressing in on her, surrounding her. She could smell him, feel him, even before he touched her.
"I shouldn't. " she began, her voice trembling.
"You shouldn't want me," he cut in, his tone low, dangerous. "But you do."
Her lips parted, denial on her tongue, but he silenced it with a fingertip pressed gently to her mouth.
"Don't lie to me, Isabella." His voice was velvet, each word a caress. "Your body speaks louder than your lips ever could."
Heat flared in her cheeks. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, betraying her. She wanted to argue, to push him away. Instead, she stood frozen, trembling, every nerve in her body alive.
Adrian's hand slid along her jaw, tilting her face up to his. His thumb brushed her lip again, the same gesture that had haunted her dreams.
"You've been running from this," he murmured. "But tonight, I won't let you."
Her knees weakened. Her hands fisted at her sides, torn between fleeing and surrendering.
And then, before she could think, before she could breathe, he kissed her.
It wasn't soft. It wasn't tentative. It was a claim. Fierce, searing, pulling a gasp from her lips as his mouth took hers, demanding and relentless.
The city spun. The world vanished. There was only the heat of him, the taste of him, the way her body arched helplessly toward his even as her mind screamed no.
When he finally pulled back, his gaze was molten, his thumb still resting against her swollen lip.
"You're mine now, Isabella," he whispered. "And there's no turning back."