Chapter 8 — A Dangerous Game

Elena didn’t even wait for the elevator. She stalked down twenty flights of stairs, fury fueling every step. By the time she reached the lobby of Blackwell Tower, her hair clung to her forehead, and her pulse hammered like she’d just run a marathon.

Adrian Blackwell was impossible. Infuriating. Smug. And — she bit back the thought — far too good at making her pulse do stupid things.

The valet rushed forward. “Mrs. Blackwell, let me get the—”

“I’ll drive myself,” Elena snapped, sliding into the sleek black Aston Martin Adrian had insisted on assigning her. It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate the car — it was that she hated owing him anything.

She jammed the key in and roared out of the garage.

******

By the time she reached the Blackwell mansion, her temper had only gotten worse. Victoria’s smug little smirk replayed in her head like a bad song on loop.

She pushed through the front doors and nearly collided with one of Adrian’s aides, a nervous man clutching a tablet.

“Mrs. Blackwell!” he squeaked. “Mr. Blackwell asked that you—”

“Tell him I’m not in the mood,” she barked, striding past. “If he wants to talk, he can do it in person.”

The aide opened his mouth, closed it again, then wisely backed away

Upstairs, Elena slammed her bedroom door behind her and collapsed onto the bed.

“This is ridiculous,” she muttered to herself. “I don’t even like him.”

Her phone buzzed. Another unknown number.

You really think you can protect him?

Elena froze, her anger draining into cold unease. Another message popped up before she could reply.

Stay out of his business, Mrs. Blackwell. Or you’ll regret it.

Elena’s first instinct wasn’t fear. It was pure, unfiltered rage. Who do they think they’re threatening?

She grabbed her phone and dialed Adrian. He didn’t answer. Typical.

Fine. If he wouldn’t pick up, she’d confront him when he came home.

******

Adrian arrived late, well past midnight, still dressed in that immaculate charcoal suit, tie loosened just slightly. He looked every inch the untouchable CEO — except his sharp gaze softened, just a fraction, when it landed on Elena pacing the foyer like an angry cat.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked calmly, setting down his briefcase.

“You could say that.” She stalked up to him, shoving her phone against his chest. “Read this.”

Adrian scanned the messages, expression unreadable. “When did you get this?”

“An hour ago.” She folded her arms. “Care to explain why someone’s threatening me? Or is this just a normal Tuesday in your world?”

Adrian’s jaw tightened. “This is my problem, not yours.”

“Wrong answer,” Elena snapped. “When some creep texts me about regretting things, it’s my problem. So who is it?”

“Someone who’s about to regret sending this,” Adrian said darkly, sliding the phone into his pocket.

“Excuse me, that’s mine—”

“I’ll have my team trace the number,” he interrupted. “In the meantime, you’re not leaving the house.”

Elena blinked. “What?”

“You heard me. No meetings. No shopping. No spontaneous road trips because you’re mad at me.”

“Adrian, you don’t get to control where I go—”

“Do you want to end up in a hospital?” His voice was suddenly sharp, steel cutting through velvet. “This isn’t a game, Elena.”

She flinched at the sudden intensity, but her pride flared. “I don’t need you babysitting me. I can handle myself.”

Adrian stepped closer, lowering his voice. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

For a moment, neither of them moved. His gaze locked on hers, fierce and unyielding. Elena’s breath came faster, but she refused to look away.

“Fine,” she said at last, voice icy. “Lock me up if it makes you feel powerful. But don’t expect me to thank you for it.”

She spun on her heel, but before she could storm off, Adrian’s hand closed around her wrist — not roughly, just firmly enough to stop her.

“Elena,” he said softly, dangerously calm now, “you think I’m doing this to control you. I’m doing this because people who come after me don’t play fair. They’ll use you to get to me.”

She froze, thrown off balance by the raw seriousness in his tone. For once, he didn’t sound like the smug, untouchable man she’d met at that outrageous wedding. He sounded like someone who’d seen too much of the world’s ugliness.

Her anger faltered. Just a little.

“Then let me help,” she said quietly.

Adrian’s lips curved — not in amusement, but something darker. “Help me?”

“Yes. I’m not some helpless little—”

Before she could finish, Adrian tugged her closer in one smooth motion, until her palms pressed against his chest. “You’re many things, Elena,” he murmured, “but helpless isn’t one of them. That’s what worries me.”

Her heart thudded. Too close. Way too close. She tried to step back, but his hand lingered at her waist just a second too long.

“Go to bed,” he said finally, releasing her. “I’ll handle this.”

Elena scowled, retreating up the stairs. But when she glanced back, Adrian was still watching her, that unreadable expression in his gray eyes — part warning, part something else entirely.

>>>>>>>

The next morning, Elena woke to the sound of raised voices downstairs. She threw on a silk robe and padded down to the study, curiosity piqued.

The door was slightly ajar. Inside, Adrian was speaking to two men in black suits — but his tone was ice.

“I want names by tonight,” Adrian said flatly. “If they’re stupid enough to go after my wife, they’re stupid enough to leave a trail. And when you find them…” His voice dropped, deadly soft. “Make an example.”

Elena’s brows shot up. Wife, huh? Interesting choice of words for a marriage of convenience.

She pushed the door open. “Morning, darling. Are we planning someone’s murder before breakfast?”

The two men stiffened, clearly unsure how to react. Adrian didn’t even look embarrassed. “We’re done here,” he told them. “Leave us.”

When the men left, Elena slipped inside, arms crossed. “You’re not seriously going to—”

“I told you I’d handle it,” Adrian said evenly.

“By scaring people half to death?”

“By making sure no one tries this again.”

Elena rolled her eyes. “You really think throwing money and threats at people solves everything?”

“It usually does,” Adrian replied without missing a beat.

She opened her mouth to argue, but before she could, Adrian’s phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, and his expression shifted slightly — sharper, colder.

“What?” Elena demanded.

“They traced the number.” Adrian slid the phone into his pocket and headed for the door.

“Where are you going?”

“To deal with it.”

“Not without me.”

“Elena—”

“Don’t even try. I’m coming.” She grabbed her jacket off a nearby chair. “Either take me with you or watch me follow you in my own car. Your choice.”

Adrian stared at her for a long moment, then exhaled sharply, almost like a laugh. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“Good,” Elena shot back, marching past him. “Then at least you won’t die of boredom.”