CH. 5

The drive to my father's house took thirty minutes, but it felt like a lifetime.

Adrian sat beside me in the cavernous back seat, his large hand covering mine on the leather console.

His grip was firm and grounding, but beneath the bespoke suit, I could feel the tension radiating off him. The man the tabloids painted as a careless, heartless playboy was currently acting like a lethal shield, and it was entirely messing with my head.

"What if he's drunk?" My voice came out thin and fragile. "He's unpredictable when he's drinking."

"Then I will handle it." Adrian's tone was absolute. "You’re not walking in there alone."

"He keeps a gun in the hall closet."

"So do I."

My head snapped toward him. "What?"

Adrian didn't elaborate, simply squeezing my fingers tighter.

The car turned onto my street—a decaying stretch of houses that had seen better decades.

Edwin’s place sat at the dead end, the yard choked with weeds and the siding peeling like a bad sunburn.

My stomach churned violently. "I can't do this."

"Yes, you can." Adrian turned to face me fully. "Look at me, Verity."

I forced my eyes up to meet his.

"He’s had twenty years to break you. But you’re sitting here. You’re still fighting. That requires a strength he could never comprehend."

His free hand moved to cup my jaw, brushing his thumb over my cheek. "And now you have me. He will never lay a hand on you again!"

Edwin's rusted truck was parked on the lawn. He was home.

The driver opened the door. Adrian stepped out first, then extended his hand to me.

I took it, my knees trembling as my feet hit the pavement.

Adrian’s hand shifted to the small of my back like a heavy, territorial weight as he guided me toward the rotting front steps.

"Stay behind me," he murmured and gave the door an authoritative rap that echoed in the quiet morning air.

For a long moment, nothing happened. Then came the heavy, unsteady thud of footsteps before the door swung open.

Edwin stood in the threshold wearing stained sweatpants and a torn undershirt.

He was unshaved, his eyes bloodshot, reeking of booze and cigarettes. When his gaze landed on me, his face contorted into an ugly sneer.

"You got some nerve showing up here—" He choked on the rest of the sentence when he finally registered Adrian.

For a heavy, suffocating second, the two men just stared at each other. Edwin was a big man, broad-shouldered and mean. But Adrian was taller, leaner, and radiated a cold, lethal violence that made my father take an instinctive half-step backward.

"Who the fuck are you?" Edwin demanded, though his bravado wavered at the edges.

Adrian didn't answer. He simply held Edwin's gaze with absolute, terrifying stillness.

Edwin shifted his weight, his face flushing an angry red and reached past Adrian, grasping for my wrist.

"Get inside. We're going to have a talk—"

Adrian reacted. It happened so fast my eyes could barely track it. One second he was standing beside me, the next, his hand was clamped around Edwin's throat, slamming the heavier man backward into the doorframe.

The wood groaned under the impact.

Edwin’s eyes bulged as his hands flew up, clawing uselessly at Adrian's wrist.

"Touch her again, and we will see exactly how easily you break!" Adrian’s face was inches from my father's.

Edwin’s face turned from red to a dangerous, suffocating purple.

Adrian held him suspended there for five agonizing seconds… just long enough for him to realize he was entirely at this man's mercy before releasing his grip.

Edwin collapsed against the doorjamb, hacking and wheezing, clutching his throat.

Adrian stepped back, calmly adjusting his cuffs. "Verity is here to collect her belongings. You’re going to stand quietly and let her do that. Is that understood?"

"She's my daughter.” Edwin glared at him, his chest heaving.

"Not anymore." The absolute certainty in Adrian's voice sent a shiver down my spine.

He turned to me, the lethal coldness in his eyes softening by a fraction. "Go. Pack your things. I will wait right here."

I slipped past my gasping father and hurried down the narrow hallway.

My bedroom was exactly as I had left it. A sagging twin bed, a broken closet door, clothes piled in the corner.

After the sterile, sweeping luxury of Adrian's penthouse, this room looked even more pathetic.

I dragged my duffel bag from under the bed and shoved my life into it. My laptop, school certificates, IDs and a handful of books.

Twenty years of existence, and it all fit into a single canvas bag. After two years of dreaming about Adrian from afar, I never imagined he would be the one standing in this rotting hallway, tearing me away from my nightmare.

When I returned to the living room, Adrian was standing in the doorway, positioned as a physical shield between me and my father.

"You think you can just take her?" Edwin spat from the couch. "She owes me. I kept a roof over her head."

"You beat her." Adrian’s voice was ice. "You terrorized her. That isn't raising a child. That’s torture!"

Edwin opened his mouth, but Adrian cut him off.

"If you ever contact her again… if you so much as speak her name aloud, I will destroy you." Adrian pulled his phone from his pocket, tapping the screen once. "I have a file documenting twenty years of your abuse and I can make you disappear into a cell for the rest of your miserable life. Remember that!"

He pocketed the phone, his hand returning to the small of my back. "Let's go."

With that, I walked out the door and never looked back, ignoring Edwin’s angry shouts.

In the car, the adrenaline finally crashed, leaving me shaking violently.

Adrian pulled me across the leather seat, tucking me firmly to his side. "It's over," he murmured into my hair. "You're safe."

I buried my face in his expensive suit jacket and let the tears come—great, heaving sobs that wracked my entire body.

Adrian held me through the storm, one hand stroking my hair and the other wrapped protectively around my waist, anchoring me to the earth.

When I finally pulled myself together, wiping my face with the back of my hand, I realized we were pulling up to a towering glass-and-steel high-rise.

"Where are we?" my voice was hoarse.

"Your new apartment." He handed me a black key card. "Unit 42B."

I stared at the plastic. "Adrian, I can't afford this."

"You aren't paying for it. I am." He turned to face me, his expression serious. "You have two choices, Verity. Accept my protection and live somewhere impenetrable. Or go back to that rotting house and let him kill you. Which is it?"

Put like that, the illusion of choice vanished. "I'll accept your help."

"Good girl."

The low praise sent a rush of warmth straight to my core, and I hated how desperately I craved his approval.

The apartment on the 42nd floor was breathtaking. Marble floors, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city, and sleek, modern furniture in soft grays and whites. It was perfect.

"How did you have this ready?" I asked, dropping my duffel bag on the marble kitchen counter. "You've known me for five days."

"Five days was enough. My team knows better than to delay when I find something I want." He crossed the room, his hands coming up to cup my face. "I knew the moment you walked into my office. Everything since then has just been logistics."

The casual, absolute possessiveness should have sent me running. He was a man who collected beautiful things and discarded them when he was bored. Instead, a dark, needy warmth unfurled in my chest.

"Why me?" I whispered.

His thumb brushed my lower lip. "Stop with the questions!”

With that, he leaned down and captured my lips in a slow, deliberate kiss, claiming me one breath at a time.

My hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer, desperate for the solid reality of him.

When he finally pulled back, we were both breathing heavily.

"I have a meeting at two," he murmured and pressed a second key card into my palm. "This gives you access to my penthouse. The private elevator code is 8-8-0-3. Use it whenever you want."

"Adrian—"

"I mean it." His fingers grazed the pulse at my throat. "You’re under my protection now. That means you have access to me. Always."

The notorious billionaire who didn't let anyone in was giving me the literal keys to his fortress.

He stepped back, the aloof personality sliding effortlessly back into place. "Get some rest!"

As the elevator doors opened to take him away, he looked back at me.

"You have me now, Verity. Don’t forget that."

Then he was gone.