Elena's POV
You know how sometimes, after something happens — something that feels like it meant something — people start pretending it didn't?
That's what Adrian did.
The night on the terrace… it changed something inside me. I still felt his hand at my waist, the heat of his breath against my ear, the way he'd looked at me like I was both temptation and salvation at once.
But the next morning, he was gone.
Not literally — he was there, at his desk, perfectly composed, perfectly distant. But the warmth in his eyes was replaced by steel again. He spoke to me in clipped tones. Strict. Professional. Controlled.
And it hurt more than I wanted to admit.
Because I missed him.
Not the billionaire. Not my boss.
Him. The man who'd stood beside me beneath the city lights and made me forget how to breathe.
I told myself to focus. To do my job. To stop thinking about what I couldn't have.
But every time he spoke, my heart betrayed me — quickening at the sound of his voice.
Still, there was something different about him now. He was quieter. Thoughtful.
And every so often, when I least expected it, he'd mention someone — a man named Jonathan Pierce.
It started casually.
We were in a meeting, going through a proposal, and he said, "Jonathan taught me that the best decisions aren't made in comfort. They're made when you're slightly afraid."
I don't know why that line stuck with me. Maybe because it sounded like something my mother would've said.
Later, in his office, while he reviewed documents, I found myself asking softly, "Who's Jonathan?"
He paused. Looked up at me. And for a moment, I saw something warm flicker in his expression.
"He's my mentor," Adrian said quietly. "The man who taught me how to build everything I have. He's one of the few people I trust completely."
I don't know what surprised me more — the softness in his tone or the fact that he trusted anyone completely.
He leaned back, his voice gentler now, almost nostalgic. "When I started out, I was reckless. Angry. He straightened me out. He taught me discipline, purpose. Everything I know about running this company — about surviving this world — comes from him."
There was a small smile on his lips, rare and unguarded.
I remember thinking how strange it was to hear him sound like that — human. Vulnerable.
And for some reason, that name — Jonathan Pierce — wouldn't leave my mind.
It felt… familiar.
Like a word you've heard in a dream.
That night, when I called my mom, I almost asked if she knew anyone by that name. But I didn't.
I don't know why. Maybe because it didn't matter. Or maybe because, deep down, I was afraid of the answer.
After that, he started mentioning Jonathan more often — in passing, in stories, in quiet moments when he'd let his guard down.
"He used to say, 'Never let fear make you small,'" Adrian said once, his gaze distant as he looked out the window.
"Sounds like good advice," I replied.
"It is," he murmured. "I wish I'd listened sooner."
There was something heavy in the way he said it — a shadow behind the words.
I wanted to ask more.
I wanted to know who this man was — the one who could shape someone like Adrian Knight.
But I didn't.
Because somehow, talking about him made Adrian softer, and I didn't want to break that spell.
And maybe… because I liked hearing him speak that way — like he wasn't this untouchable man the world feared, but someone who once needed guidance, who once needed someone to believe in him.
He would never know that those were the moments I fell deeper for him — not when he looked at me like I was his, not when he shielded me from the world — but when he showed me the smallest pieces of his past.
Because those pieces felt like secrets he didn't mean to share.
And I never imagined that this Jonathan Pierce, the man who shaped Adrian Knight's world…
was the same man who unknowingly shaped mine.