CHAPTER TWO - The Man Behind The Mask

(Adrian’s POV)

“You really think you can outbid me?”

The words had slipped from my mouth before I even thought about them. My tone was sharper than I intended, but that woman, Clara Hayes, looked at me as though she already knew I wasn’t used to losing.

The crowd buzzed around us, the auctioneer’s voice echoing through the gilded hall. I had come here to secure the Rothschild painting, another piece to add to Knight Global’s private collection, a deal that should have been simple. Instead, I found myself staring at a pair of steady brown eyes belonging to a stranger who refused to back down.

No, she wasn’t a stranger.

I’d heard her once before. Clara Hayes. The woman Ethan left in ruins, the one who, according to gossip, never quite recovered from him. Seeing her in person was disarming. She didn’t look broken. She looked… "determined.

“I don’t lose easily,” she said, her voice even controlled.

For a moment, I almost smiled. Almost.

The gavel came down, and she won. She won because I let her. My hand froze halfway to the bidding card, not because I couldn’t afford to go higher but because, for the first time in years, I didn’t feel the urge to fight. Something about her gaze held me still, like she was daring me to push her, but knowing I wouldn’t.

And then I saw him. Ethan.

The name alone was enough to sour my blood. He was standing by the champagne table, laughing, his hand already reaching for her as if she still belonged to him. My jaw tightened. After everything, the betrayal, the knife he buried in my back, he still dared to walk into the same room as me, grinning like the devil.

I should have left. I had promised myself years ago that if Ethan Ward ever crossed my path again, I’d keep my distance. But when his voice rang out, “Clara, darling, there you are,” something inside me snapped.

I watched her stiffen, the color draining from her face. She muttered something under her breath, but he didn’t care. He never did. Ethan thrived on spectacle, on reminding everyone of his presence.

“Clara,” he crooned as he reached her side. “You didn’t call. Were you avoiding me?”

Her lips pressed tight. “I wasn’t aware I owed you explanations.”

Ethan chuckled, loud enough for the nearby guests to hear. “You always were fiery. I liked that about you.” He turned toward me with a smile that never reached his eyes. “Adrian Knight. Allow me to introduce Clara. She’s….well, she was mine once.”

The words hit her like a slap. I saw it in her eyes, the humiliation, the frustration of being reduced to his possession in front of strangers.

I hated him all over again.

“Not anymore,” I said before I could stop myself.

Ethan’s grin widened. “Protective, are we? Since when does Adrian Knight play knight in shining armor?”

“Since men like you mistake cruelty for charm,” I shot back, my voice low enough that only they heard.

Her eyes widened slightly, flicking between us. “Both of you, stop. This isn’t…”

“Oh, but it is,” Ethan interrupted smoothly, his hand hovering at her elbow as if he still had the right to touch her. “This is what happens when people don’t learn their place.”

I offered her my arm, ignoring Ethan’s smirk, ignoring the whispers already rising around us. The entire gala floor was watching, phones out, hungry for scandal. The untouchable Adrian Knight, stepping in to shield Ethan’s ex.

For a man who avoided gossip at all costs, this was reckless. But leaving her there, in Ethan’s grip, would’ve been worse.

Clara hesitated for a second, then slipped her arm through mine. She held her chin high, but her hand trembled slightly against my sleeve.

Ethan leaned closer, his voice low and venomous. “She’ll leave you, too, Knight. Just like she left me.”

“She didn’t leave you,” I muttered. “You destroyed her.”

Ethan’s smirk faltered just enough to satisfy me.

We walked out together. Past the sea of cameras, past Ethan’s mocking smile and past the vultures already spinning their stories.

Outside, the cool night air hit me. My pulse was still racing. I expected her to pull away, to thank me and vanish into the crowd. Instead, she lingered, her eyes searching mine.

“Why did you do that?” she asked finally, her voice low.

Why did I? I didn’t owe her anything. I didn’t even know her. All I knew was Ethan, and anyone tied to him was a reminder of a past I’d buried long ago.

“Because he wanted to humiliate you,” I said flatly. “And I don’t tolerate men like him.”

Her lips parted slightly, like she wanted to argue, but she didn’t.

“You don’t even know me,” she whispered.

“No,” I agreed. “But I know him. And that’s enough.”

She nodded once, then stepped back. I thought that was the end of it. But as she turned away, something twisted in my chest, an ache I hadn’t felt in years.

Because Clara Hayes wasn’t just Ethan’s ex. She was the reminder of everything I had lost because of him, the friendship, the trust, the life I might have had if betrayal hadn’t cut so deep.

And worse, she was a temptation.

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

Back at my penthouse that night, the city lights stretched endlessly below me. Sophia, my younger sister, was sprawled across the couch, scrolling through her phone.

“You’re trending,” she said without looking up.

I poured myself a drink. “Don’t care.”

“You should,” she said. “Half the internet thinks you’re dating Ethan’s ex. The other half thinks you’re starting some twisted revenge story.” She tilted her phone toward me, a smirk playing on her lips. “Either way, you look… human. And that scares them.”

I ignored her, sipping slowly, but her words sank in. Humans. I hadn’t allowed myself to be that in years. Not since Ethan gutted me.

“Careful, Adrian,” Sophia said lightly, though her eyes sharpened on me. “If she’s anything like the headlines say, she’ll either ruin you or save you. And I’m not sure which scares you more.”

I gave her a look, but she only shrugged and went back to her phone.

But Clara’s face wouldn’t leave my mind. The way she held her ground during the bidding. The way her pride cracked when Ethan reduced her to a memory. The way she looked at me, like she could see straight through the mask I wore for the world.

This was dangerous. She was dangerous.

And yet, when my phone buzzed with an invitation to another gala next week, I didn’t hesitate. I already knew she’d be there.

Because Ethan would make sure of it.

And I wasn’t done with Clara Hayes. Not yet.

The night I saw her again, I found myself breaking my own rule: never approach first. But I did. She stood near the gallery entrance, her hand brushing a sculpture as if she could absorb its strength.

“Still think you don’t lose easily?” I asked, my voice deliberately low, cutting through the hum of chatter.

Her head snapped up, her eyes locking on mine. That same spark from before flickered between us, electric, dangerous.

“Yes,” she said quietly. “And I don’t plan on losing to you either.”