CHAPTER THREE

The days passed in a blur of wedding fittings, floral orders, and endless checklists. Elena tried to drown herself in preparations, convincing herself that doubt was only nerves. Daniel was steady, Daniel was safe. He had given her love, a future, and promises wrapped in pearls.

And yet… Adrian’s words clung to her like shadows.

On a quiet afternoon, when the shop smelled of roses and lavender, the bell above the door chimed again.

Her heart dropped.

Adrian stood in the doorway, dark and composed, as if he belonged to the silence more than the world outside.

Elena’s voice caught in her throat. “You can’t keep coming here.”

He ignored the protest, stepping closer, his gaze sweeping the bouquets before resting on her. “How’s the fiancé?”

Her chest tightened. “Happy. Busy. Preparing for our wedding.”

Adrian tilted his head, a faint smile ghosting his lips. “A wedding built on lies doesn’t last long.”

Her hands balled into fists. “Why do you keep saying that?”

“Because it’s true.” His voice was low, steady, unyielding. “I don’t lie to you, Elena. He does.”

The anger in her rose. “You don’t even know him—”

“I know enough.” His gaze sharpened, cutting through her defenses. “Do you think I walk into places blind? I don’t buy flowers without knowing who ties the ribbon. And I don’t watch a woman without knowing who else thinks she belongs to him.”

Her breath faltered. “Belongs—”

Adrian’s voice softened, dangerous in its calm. “Your Daniel already belongs to someone else.”

Her throat went dry. She wanted to scream, to deny, to laugh at the absurdity of it—but her voice betrayed her. “You’re trying to ruin us.”

He stepped closer, and though his presence loomed, his words fell like a whisper. “I don’t need to ruin what’s already broken.”

The air between them was thick, her pulse pounding too fast. She forced herself to look away, clutching the counter. “Leave.”

For a moment, silence stretched, broken only by the ticking of the old shop clock.

Finally, Adrian set a single red rose on the counter, its petals darker than blood. “You’ll see it soon enough,” he said softly.

And then he was gone, leaving her trembling in the quiet.

Elena stared at the rose, her chest rising and falling too quickly.

For the first time, she felt afraid to close her eyes—because she didn’t know if the lies belonged to Adrian’s world… or her own.

It was past midnight when Elena locked up the shop. The street was quiet, the lamps spilling pale circles of light across the cobblestones. She pulled her coat tighter, the night air prickling against her skin.

A figure leaned against her car.

Her heart stuttered.

Adrian.

He looked perfectly at ease, as though he had been waiting for hours and time meant nothing to him. A cigarette glowed faintly between his fingers, smoke curling into the air.

“You shouldn’t be out here alone,” he said, voice low, carrying too easily in the quiet. “This city has wolves.”

Her hands trembled as she clutched her keys. “And which one are you?”

He smiled faintly, exhaling smoke. “The one who doesn’t bother to hide his teeth.”

She swallowed hard. “You can’t keep doing this—showing up everywhere I am.”

He pushed off the car, closing the space between them in two measured steps. “I can. And I will.” His gaze burned into her. “Because you don’t belong to him.”

“I’m engaged,” she whispered, as though saying it could build a wall between them.

Adrian chuckled, the sound low and humorless. “Engagements break. Rings are just metal. Promises—cheap words.” He reached for her hand suddenly, curling his fingers around hers. “But obsession? That doesn’t snap so easily.”

Her pulse hammered as she tried to pull away, but his grip was iron—firm, not painful, just inescapable.

“You terrify me,” she breathed.

His lips curved in that dry, wicked smile. “Good. Fear keeps you sharp.” He tilted his head, studying her like she was both a puzzle and a prize. “But don’t mistake me for a monster, Elena. I don’t want to hurt you.” A pause, his voice lowering. “Unless you make me.”

Her breath caught, his words chilling and yet… pulling at something deep inside her she dared not name.

Finally, he released her hand, stepping back. “Go home,” he said softly, his eyes never leaving hers. “Dream of your Daniel. Pretend he’s the man you think he is.” His smile widened slightly, razor-thin humor flashing. “And when the dream breaks, I’ll be waiting to catch you.”

He dropped his cigarette, grinding it beneath his shoe, and walked away into the darkness.

Elena stood frozen by her car, her chest rising too fast, her hand still burning where his fingers had held her.

It wasn’t just fear anymore.

It was the terrifying knowledge that a part of her wanted to be caught.

Elena woke to the faint scent of roses.

For a moment, she thought it was a dream. But when she sat up, heart pounding, she saw it—

A single crimson rose laid across her pillow. The petals glistened with dew that had no place inside her locked apartment.

Her breath caught. The door was still bolted. The windows shut. And yet the flower lay there like a whisper of trespass.

Pinned beneath it, a note written in sharp, deliberate strokes:

You look beautiful when you sleep.

Her hand trembled as she clutched the paper, fear and anger twisting in her chest. How had he been here? How close had he come?

Her phone buzzed suddenly. A message. No name—just a number she didn’t recognize.

Did you dream of me?

Elena dropped the phone as though it had burned her.

Later that day, she tried to steady herself at the shop, but the shadows in every corner seemed thicker, waiting. The bell chimed, and though she braced herself, it wasn’t a customer.

It was him.

Adrian stepped inside with the calm assurance of someone who had every right to be there. He wore black again, the kind of darkness that seemed to swallow the light around him.

“You broke into my home,” Elena accused, voice sharp but shaky.

He tilted his head, lips curving in that dry, dangerous smile. “You make it sound so vulgar. I was simply visiting.”

“Visiting?” Her voice cracked. “While I slept?”

His eyes softened, but not with guilt. With something far worse—possession. “You don’t understand, Elena. I needed to see you when the world wasn’t watching. You’re different then… unguarded. Pure.”

Her breath shivered in her throat. “That’s insane.”

Adrian’s smile deepened. “Obsession usually is.”

He reached for a vase of lilies on the counter, lifting one as though it were fragile glass. “Your fiancé doesn’t see you. Not the way I do. He sees what you give him. I see everything.” His gaze swept over her, deliberate, consuming. “And I want everything.”

She stumbled back, pressing against the counter. “You can’t have me.”

For a moment, silence. Then his laugh—low, humorless, edged with steel. “Can’t?” He stepped closer, the flower still in his hand. “You’ll learn, Elena. In my world, what I want… I take.”

He set the lily down, brushing his fingers across hers as he did. The touch lingered too long, too certain.

“I’m patient,” he murmured. “But patience has limits.” His eyes gleamed with something dark and final. “And I don’t like to share.”

With that, he left, the bell chiming softly in his wake.

Elena collapsed against the counter, clutching the note from that morning still hidden in her pocket.

The words repeated in her head like a curse, or a promise: You look beautiful when you sleep.