CHAPTER FOUR - Tangled Lines

Clara’s Pov

“You shouldn’t be here, Clara.”

That’s the first thing Nora says the moment I walk through the front door of our apartment. She’s sitting cross-legged on the couch, scrolling on her phone like she’s been waiting for me to arrive. Her tone is sharp, the kind that slices straight through any excuse I could try to come up with.

I drop my heels by the door, my shoulders aching from hours of holding myself together at the gala. “Good evening to you, too, sis.”

Nora doesn’t even smile. Her brows pull together as she shoves her phone at me. “This is why I’m saying it.”

On the screen is a gossip site, headline bold, picture brighter. Adrian Knight, elusive billionaire, was seen leaving the gala with Clara Hayes, Ethan Ward’s former flame.

The image is damning: Adrian and I, side by side, his hand just hovering at my back, my face tilted up toward him as though he’s the only person in the room.

My stomach drops. “Oh, God.”

Nora crosses her arms, frustration rolling off her in waves. “Clara, do you have any idea what people are going to say? They’ll drag you back into Ethan’s drama. And Knight? He’s dangerous in a different way. Everyone knows it.”

I sink onto the armchair, burying my face in my hands. “I didn’t ask for this. Ethan cornered me. Adrian… he just, he got me out of there.”

“That’s how it always starts,” Nora says softly but firmly. “One rescue, then another, and before you know it, you’re tangled again. First Ethan, now Adrian. It’s like you’re a magnet for men with too much power.”

Her words sting because they aren’t entirely wrong. I spent years in Ethan’s shadow, trying to pull free. And tonight, with just one moment, Adrian Knight has tied me to his world without even meaning to.

“I’m not falling for him,” I insist, though my voice doesn’t sound as certain as I wish.

Nora leans forward, her eyes sharp. “Aren’t you? Because the way you’re looking at that photo says otherwise.”

I glance at the picture again. My face looks… open, vulnerable, like I’ve forgotten the cameras, the world, everything except the man at my side.

And the worst part? That’s exactly how it felt.

********************

The next morning, the fallout is worse.

At the gallery, whispers spread through the office. My coworkers glance up from their desks, pretend not to look, then whisper again once I pass. By the time I reach my office, my phone is buzzing with messages. Some from friends. Most from strangers.

I scroll through them, my pulse quickening. Gold-digger, climbing higher. Ward’s leftovers move on to Knight.

I grip the edge of my desk, willing myself not to cry. I survived worse rumors when Ethan and I broke up, when he cheated, and when the world chose to believe him over me. But still, the sting of it slices through my skin.

A knock interrupts my thoughts. It’s Mara, one of the junior curators. She peers inside, her face cautious. “Um… there’s a delivery for you.”

I frown. “A delivery?”

She nods, pushing the door wider. Behind her, a man in a crisp suit carries a long black box. He sets it gently on my desk, bows his head, and leaves without a word.

I stare at it. The box is sleek, understated, expensive in the way that speaks of Adrian Knight without needing his name.

Mara raises her brows. “Well? Aren’t you going to open it?”

My throat tightens. With careful fingers, I lift the lid. Inside rests a single white lily, pure and unblemished, lying against the velvet lining. No card, no explanation. Just the flower.

Mara gasps softly. “That’s… romantic.”

I’m not sure that’s the word. The sight of it sends a confusing rush through me, part nerves, part heat, part warning.

I close the box quickly. “It’s nothing. Probably just a thank you.”

But even as I say it, I know Adrian Knight doesn’t send gifts lightly, and he definitely doesn’t do thank yous.

**********************

That evening, I find myself walking down the quiet stretch of Willow Street, where the city hum fades and the air smells faintly of rain. I shouldn’t be here. I know that. And yet, my feet have carried me straight to the entrance of Knight Global’s headquarters.

The glass building towers above me, cold and magnificent, reflecting the night sky like it owns it.

The doorman recognizes me instantly, I’ll never know how. Without a word, he waves me through.

I hesitate only once, at the elevator, my finger hovering over the button for the top floor. If I go up, I’m stepping directly into Adrian’s world, into the mess of the past and the danger of the present.

Still, I press the button.

By the time the doors slide open, my heart is pounding in my throat. Adrian’s office is exactly what I expected: sleek lines, dark wood, and the city sprawling out through floor-to-ceiling windows.

And him.

He’s standing behind his desk, jacket off, sleeves rolled up, the picture of power and control. But when his eyes lift to me, there’s a flicker of something raw. Something he quickly hides.

“Clara,” he says slowly, his voice a low drawl. “I wondered how long it would take.”

I swallow hard. “You sent me a lily.”

One corner of his mouth twitches. “You noticed.”

“Why?” My voice cracks despite me. “Why drag me into this when you know the headlines it would cause? When you know what people already say about me?”

He studies me for a long moment, his gaze steady, unreadable. Then he moves around the desk, closing the distance between us until I can feel the heat radiating off him.

“Because,” Adrian says quietly, “I don’t let Ethan Ward write my story anymore. And neither should you.”

My breath catches. “You think this is about him?”

His jaw tightens, shadows flickering across his face. “Everything has been about him. For too long.”

For a moment, the air between us is too heavy, too charged. My pulse thrums in my ears, and I can’t decide if I want to run or lean closer.

Finally, I find my voice, shaky but real. “Adrian… this, whatever this is, it can’t happen.”

His eyes lock onto mine, sharp and unyielding. “Then tell me to stop.”