Chapter Two: Dangerous Curiosity
I didn't sleep.
Not because of the rain that tapped against the tall glass windows of my hotel room.
Not because of the unfamiliar bed.
But because of him.
"Goodnight… Miss Carter."
The way he said it replayed in my mind like a slow, deliberate melody. Calm. Confident. As if he already knew there would be more than just a goodnight between us.
How did he know my name?
I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the silver bracelet now resting on the bedside table. I was certain it had fallen near the entrance outside. Which meant he must have seen me before I saw him.
Watching.
The thought should have unsettled me.
Instead, it sent a strange warmth through my chest.
I shook my head at myself. This was ridiculous. I was here for a business contract with one of the biggest development firms in the city. A clean, professional week. No distractions. No complications.
Men like him were complications.
The next morning, I dressed carefully—more carefully than necessary. A fitted cream dress, structured but elegant. Heels sharp enough to command respect. My hair pulled back into a sleek low bun.
Professional.
Untouchable.
By the time I entered the conference floor, my composure had fully returned. I walked into the meeting room with confidence—until I saw who was standing at the head of the table.
Him.
Dark suit. Crisp white shirt. No tie this time. As if he wanted to appear slightly less intimidating.
It didn't work.
Conversations around the room quieted as he turned slowly, his eyes landing on me with unmistakable recognition.
"Miss Carter," he said smoothly.
The sound of my name on his lips again made my pulse betray me.
"You're part of this project?" I asked, keeping my tone even.
A flicker of amusement crossed his face.
"I am the project."
The room shifted subtly as others waited for introductions.
He extended his hand.
"Adrian Vale."
The name settled between us like a secret.
I placed my hand in his, determined not to react this time.
Big mistake.
His grip was firm, warm, lingering just half a second longer than necessary.
"Pleasure to meet you… officially," he added.
Officially.
Meaning last night hadn't counted.
Meaning he remembered it just as clearly as I did.
The meeting began, and I forced my attention to the presentation. Adrian spoke with authority, his voice calm yet commanding. He didn't raise it once, yet everyone listened. Every word deliberate. Every glance calculated.
And occasionally—
His eyes found mine.
Not long enough for others to notice.
Just long enough for me to feel it.
By the time the meeting ended, I was mentally exhausted from pretending not to be aware of him.
As people filed out, I gathered my documents quickly, determined to leave first.
"Miss Carter."
His voice again.
Closer now.
I inhaled slowly before turning around.
"Yes, Mr. Vale?"
His eyes darkened slightly at the formality.
"Walk with me."
It wasn't a question.
Still, I followed.
We moved down the quiet hallway toward the private executive offices. The air felt heavier here, insulated from the noise of the outside world.
"You seem surprised to see me this morning," he said casually.
"I prefer knowing who I'm doing business with," I replied.
"And if you had known it was me?"
I hesitated.
"Would that have changed anything?"
He stopped walking.
I nearly collided with him.
Now we stood closer than appropriate. Close enough that I could see the faint scar near his jaw. Close enough to notice the controlled tension in his posture.
"It might have," I admitted softly.
His gaze sharpened.
"In what way?"
"In the way I prepared."
A slow smile curved his lips.
"I noticed."
Heat crept up my neck.
"That was for the meeting."
"Of course," he said, though his tone suggested otherwise.
Silence lingered between us again—but this time it wasn't accidental. It felt intentional. Chosen.
"Why were you watching me last night?" I asked before I could lose the courage.
"I wasn't watching," he corrected gently. "I was making sure you arrived safely."
"I didn't ask you to."
"No," he agreed. "You didn't."
Something about his honesty disarmed me.
"You have a habit of involving yourself where you're not invited?" I challenged.
His eyes held mine steadily.
"Only when I'm interested."
The word hung there.
Interested.
Not in the contract.
Not in the business deal.
In me.
My breath felt uneven.
"This is a professional partnership," I reminded him.
"It can remain that way."
His voice was calm.
But his eyes?
They were anything but.
"And if I don't want it to remain that way?" he asked quietly.
The question wasn't aggressive.
It wasn't rushed.
It was patient.
Dangerously patient.
I should have stepped back.
I should have reminded him of boundaries.
Instead, I asked, "Why me?"
He studied my face like he was memorizing it.
"Because you don't look at me the way everyone else does."
"And how is that?"
"Like you're not afraid to walk away."
My heart pounded harder.
"And that bothers you?"
"No," he said softly. "It excites me."
There it was.
The line we weren't supposed to cross.
The sweet sin waiting patiently between us.
I swallowed, steadying myself.
"This is a bad idea."
"Yes," he agreed without hesitation.
We stood there for one suspended second longer than safe.
Then his phone rang, breaking the spell.
He glanced at the screen, irritation flashing briefly.
When he looked back at me, his expression was composed again—but something unspoken remained.
"This conversation isn't over," he said.
I held his gaze.
"No," I replied quietly. "It's not."
And as I walked away, I understood something terrifying.
I wasn't trying to avoid him anymore.
I was wondering how far I would let this go.