Adrian's POV
"Your father would be ashamed."
My grandfather's voice echoes in my head as I watch Richard Chase stumble through his speech. The man's drunk, desperate, and about to lose everything. Exactly the way Grandfather taught me to win.
Destroy them when they're weak. Show no mercy. Emotion is for fools.
I learned that lesson when I was eight years old, watching my father cry over my mother's empty closet. She'd trapped him with pregnancy, bled him dry for eighteen years, then left with half his fortune and another man. Dad never recovered. He died broken, still loving the woman who destroyed him.
I swore I'd never be that stupid.
"Mr. Wolfe?" Richard Chase appears beside me, reeking of whiskey and desperation. "Have you considered our counter-offer?"
"I have." I take a sip of my water. I never drink alcohol—can't afford to lose control. "It's insulting."
His face goes red. "Insulting? My company is worth—"
"Half of what you think it is. Your books are a mess, your tech is outdated, and your competitors are circling like sharks." I meet his eyes with the cold stare that makes grown men flinch. "Take my offer or lose everything in six months. Your choice."
He opens his mouth to argue, but a woman in red appears at his elbow. Mid-forties, too much makeup, calculating eyes. His wife, I remember. Margaret Chase.
"Richard, darling, you're needed for photos." She smiles at me with too many teeth. "Mr. Wolfe, thank you so much for coming. I hope you're enjoying yourself."
"Immensely." I lie smoothly.
I'm bored out of my mind. These corporate events are all the same—fake smiles, faker conversations, people wanting something from me. I've been Adrian Wolfe, CEO of Wolfe Enterprises, since I was twenty-three. Eleven years of building an empire while everyone waits for me to fail like my father did.
I don't fail. Ever.
"Oh, Adrian!" Another voice cuts through the crowd. Vanessa Chase, Richard's daughter, waves at me like we're friends. We're not. "Come meet the investors from Tokyo!"
I've met them. Twice. They're boring.
"I need some air," I tell her, already walking toward the exit.
My penthouse suite is on the top floor—I always book the best room when traveling. It's not about luxury. It's about control. My space. My rules. No surprises.
I loosen my tie as the elevator climbs. The acquisition is nearly done. By Monday, Chase Technologies will be mine, and Richard Chase will be unemployed. It's just business. Nothing personal.
So why does my chest feel tight?
The elevator doors open. I step into the hallway and immediately notice something wrong.
A woman is stumbling near my door, one hand on the wall for balance. Blonde hair falling from its pins. Blue dress rumpled. She looks lost and scared and barely conscious.
My first instinct is to keep walking. Not my problem. People get drunk at parties all the time.
But then she whimpers—a small, broken sound that hits something deep in my chest—and I can't ignore her.
"Miss? Are you alright?"
She looks up, and my breath catches. She's beautiful. Not in the polished, calculated way of women who usually approach me. Beautiful in a natural, unguarded way that makes my pulse quicken unexpectedly.
And her eyes—honey-gold and terrified—are begging for help.
"I don't... feel good." Her words slur together. "Something's wrong. I think... I think someone..."
She starts to collapse.
I catch her before she hits the floor, and the feeling of her in my arms sends electricity through my whole body. What the hell is wrong with me? I don't react to women like this. Ever.
"Hey, stay with me." My voice comes out rougher than I intend. "What's your name? Who are you here with?"
"Elena." She's shaking now. "Nobody. I'm with nobody."
The sadness in those words cuts deeper than it should.
I carry her into my suite, trying to ignore how perfectly she fits against my chest. This is stupid. Dangerous. I should call hotel security, dump her with them, and forget this ever happened.
But I can't.
Something about her pulls at me. Maybe it's the fear in her eyes. Maybe it's the way she looks at me like I'm a hero instead of the ruthless bastard everyone else sees.
Or maybe I'm just tired of being cold all the time.
I set her on the sofa, keeping distance between us. "I'm calling a doctor."
"No!" She grabs my hand with surprising strength. "Please. I just need... need to lie down. Five minutes. Then I'll go."
"You need medical attention—"
"Please." Tears spill down her cheeks, and something in my chest cracks. "Please don't call anyone. I'll be fine. I just... I can't..."
I should refuse. This is clearly drugs or alcohol or both. She needs help I'm not qualified to give.
But the desperate plea in her voice reminds me of someone. Of myself, maybe, back when Dad died and Grandfather told me crying was weakness. When I had nobody to turn to and everyone expected me to fail.
"Okay," I hear myself say. "No doctors. But you're not leaving until you're steady on your feet. Understood?"
Relief floods her face, and she's even more beautiful when she's not terrified.
I sit beside her, maintaining respectful distance. "I'm Adrian, by the way."
"Thank you, Adrian." Her eyes are already drooping. "You're the first nice thing to happen to me in... I don't even know how long."
"That's a sad thing to hear."
"It's a sad life to live."
My throat tightens. I know that feeling too well.
She leans against me without warning, her head on my shoulder, and I should move away. Should put her in the guest room and leave her alone. Should be the cold, controlled person I've built myself into.
Instead, my arms come around her like it's the most natural thing in the world.
"You're safe now," I whisper. "I promise."
She sighs, her body relaxing into mine, and for the first time in years, I feel warm.
Then she kisses me.
It's soft and hesitant and tastes like champagne and desperation. I know I should stop this. She's not in her right mind. This is wrong on every level.
But when she looks at me with those gold eyes and whispers, "Please don't leave me alone," I'm lost.
I kiss her back.
And that's when everything goes to hell.
I wake up at dawn with Elena tangled in my sheets, her blonde hair spread across my pillow. Sunlight cuts through the windows, illuminating exactly what I've done.
Panic slams into me like a freight train.
I slept with a stranger. Lost control. Broke every rule I've lived by for eleven years. This is exactly how my father destroyed himself—one night of weakness with the wrong woman, and his whole life fell apart.
I look at Elena's peaceful face and see my mother. A trap. A liability. A mistake that will cost me everything.
My phone buzzes on the nightstand. A text from David, my best friend and COO: Vanessa Chase called. Says her sister is missing. You seen anyone?
My blood turns to ice.
Sister?
I grab my laptop, searching for information on Richard Chase's family. There are two daughters listed. Vanessa Chase, age 21. And Elena Chase, age 22.
Elena Chase.
The woman sleeping in my bed is Richard Chase's daughter. The daughter of the man whose company I'm destroying. The woman who could claim I took advantage of her to manipulate the acquisition deal.
This isn't just a mistake. It's a disaster.
I look at her again, and for one stupid second, I want to stay. Want to wake her up gently and ask if she's okay. Want to know what made her so sad last night.
But wanting things is what destroyed my father.
I grab hotel stationery and write fast: Last night was a mistake. Forget it happened. —A
I don't sign my full name. Maybe she won't remember. Maybe this can just disappear.
I'm dressed and gone in five minutes.
It's only when I'm in my car, driving away from the hotel, that I realize I left my business card on the nightstand.
The one with my full name and company logo.
She'll know exactly who I am.
And when Richard Chase finds out his daughter spent the night with the man destroying his company, he'll use it as ammunition. Claim I seduced her for business advantage. Drag my name through the mud.
I grip the steering wheel until my knuckles turn white.
I should've walked past her in that hallway. Should've let her collapse and called security. Should've been the cold bastard everyone expects instead of the idiot who thought he could be human for one night.
My phone rings. David.
"Tell me you didn't do something stupid," he says instead of hello.
I stare at the road ahead, at the sunrise breaking over New York City, at the ruins of my carefully controlled life.
"Define stupid."
His groan tells me he already knows.
And somewhere behind me, in a hotel suite I'll never return to, Elena Chase is waking up to discover she spent the night with her family's greatest enemy.
This is going to destroy both of us.