KISS'S POV
The gala's glittering lights seemed to blur as I walked beside Chris toward the main hall. Every whispered conversation, every camera flash, faded into the background. My mind, however, wasn't on the gala—it was on the brief confrontation with Ashley in the restroom, and on the subtle, almost imperceptible tension between Adrian and Chris earlier.
"Miss Hilson, may I have a word?"
I froze mid-step. That voice. Low, commanding. Impossible to ignore.
I turned slowly. Adrian Goodwill. His expression was calm, but the storm behind his eyes was unmistakable. He walked toward me, each step deliberate, magnetic. My heart picked up its own rhythm, and I couldn't stop it from racing.
"I… I—" I started, trying to maintain composure.
"Wait here," he interrupted, voice low, measured, and the words wrapped around me like a shiver down my spine. "I need a word."
Before I could react, he gently grabbed my wrist, guiding me away from the crowd. My pulse spiked—not from fear, but anticipation. The warmth of his hand lingered longer than necessary, sending goosebumps down my arm.
Once we were away from the cameras, the whispers, the flashing lights, he stopped. He stood in front of me, blocking my way entirely. The air between us was charged, every inch of space suffused with tension.
"Why are you so close to him?" His voice was low, almost a growl.
I blinked, trying to gather my words. "I'm just… walking. With a friend. That's all."
His gaze dropped—slowly, deliberately—to my lips. My throat went dry. I couldn't help but lick them, an unconscious reaction to the intensity of his stare.
The effect on him was immediate. His breath hitched, his jaw clenched, and for a split second, all the control I thought he had seemed to falter.
"You're impossible," he muttered, stepping closer, closing the space between us. I could feel his chest brush against mine.
"Adrian—" I started, but he silenced me with a hand resting against the wall beside my head. His other hand was near my waist, steadying us both.
"You think I don't notice?" he whispered. "You think I don't feel how close you let him get?"
The heat from his body was overwhelming, but there was something more than desire in his eyes—possessiveness, protectiveness, something almost dangerous. I wanted to speak, to resist—but my words stuck in my throat.
Then his lips were on mine.
Not a gentle kiss. Not a playful one. Intense. Claiming. Every ounce of restraint he had built up over the weeks seemed to pour into it. My hands instinctively found their way to his chest, feeling the strength beneath the tailored suit. I pressed closer, unable—or unwilling—to pull away.
The world around us disappeared. The gala, the guests, even the flashing cameras—all irrelevant. There was only him, and the heat between us, and the undeniable pull that neither of us could deny.
My mind screamed to stop—but my body betrayed me, melting into his hold. His hands traced my waist, drawing me impossibly closer, his lips teasing mine with a mixture of hunger and control.
Every breath was stolen. Every heartbeat synchronized.
And then—abruptly—a voice cut through.
"Adrian."
My head snapped toward the interruption, and the moment shattered. Chris stood there, an amused smirk on his face, watching us as though he had expected nothing less. I felt my face flush, heat rushing to my ears, as Adrian's hold loosened slightly—but not entirely. His eyes still burned into mine.
I stepped back, trying to regain composure, heart hammering violently.
Adrian's voice was low, sharp, and dangerous. "Stay away from her."
Chris only laughed softly, a teasing glint in his eyes. "I'm just observing."
I felt my hands tremble slightly, the intensity of what had just happened leaving me dizzy. My thoughts were chaotic—confusion, desire, fear, and… something else. Something powerful.
Adrian's eyes followed me as I took a hesitant step back. "Don't think this ends here," he said, voice tight with emotion.
I nodded, unable to speak, still feeling the heat of his lips on mine. I realized, then, just how impossible it was to resist him—not only because of desire, but because I had felt, for the first time, how much he cared, even in silence.
---
ADRIAN'S POV
Watching her retreat, I wanted to pull her back immediately. Every instinct screamed to keep her close, to claim her in a way the world couldn't touch.
But Chris's presence complicated everything. That smirk, that calm, that amusement—it was infuriating. Chris wasn't a threat, yet the fact that he dared stand there, observing, made my chest tighten in a way I hated to admit.
Her lips had tasted like fire, like temptation. Like everything I wanted but couldn't—or thought I couldn't—have. And yet, seeing her hesitate, stepping back, made the possessive part of me roar.
"You are mine," I muttered under my breath, more to myself than to anyone else.
Chris's laugh cut through again. "She's… interesting."
"She's off-limits," I growled.
The reality sank in—if I wanted her protected, if I wanted her entirely… I couldn't afford distractions. Not from him. Not from anyone.
Her shiver, the subtle flush on her cheeks, the way her lips had moved against mine—everything had consequences. And I intended to claim them all.
The gala faded around me. My focus was singular. Kissabel Hilson. And I wouldn't let anyone—even me—forget it.
---
CHRIS'S POV
I leaned against the far wall, glass in hand, watching the storm unfold.
Adrian Goodwill. So confident. So commanding. And yet… he faltered. Just for a moment. Just enough to expose how much he cared.
And then there was Kiss. Small. Beautiful. Unassuming. Yet, in that stolen moment, she had reduced the CEO of Goodwill International to… this. Vulnerable. Reckless. Hungry.
I smiled faintly. This was more than a game. I could see it—the pull between them. The danger. The obsession. And yet… it was only the beginning.
I turned, letting the gala's noise engulf me again, but I kept one eye on them. Because soon, everyone would realize: this wasn't just about business, power, or money.
This was about possession. Desire. And the first moves had already been made.