CHAPTER SEVEN: COLLISION COURSE

“You’re not coming.”

Adrian’s voice was calm, controlled—one of those low, even tones that cloaked arrogance like silk. He straightened his cufflinks as if the matter were already settled, his eyes flicking to her in the mirror like she was nothing more than a reflection to manage.

Naya stood still, arms crossed over the dress she didn’t pick to be dismissed in. It hugged her like defiance—sleek, sharp, dark. Her hair was pulled high and tight, lips a soft nude, emerald earrings glinting like quiet rebellion.

She looked like a woman ready for war. Not the one who’d cried behind bars forty-eight hours ago.

“That’s adorable,” she said flatly, stepping into the room without waiting to be invited. “Try telling me again.”

Adrian turned. “This is a closed-room meeting. High-level. The DA, the judge, media advisors. It’s not a show trial yet.”

She took one step forward. “Then they’ll need a reminder I’m not a ghost.”

Her voice cut clean through the space between them.

“This is my life, Adrian. I don’t care what their titles are. I’m done being the quiet girl who just waits to be saved.”

His jaw ticked.

“You’re on thin ice with bail. You push too hard—”

“Then maybe it’s time they learn I’m not the type to drown.” She slipped on her heels and brushed past him, her stride daring him to try and stop her. “Let’s go. Unless you’re afraid I’ll embarrass you.”

The smirk that curved his mouth was pure challenge.

“I’m not afraid of you, Naya.”

She paused at the door, one hand on the knob.

“Then let’s go prove it.”

****

The DA’s office felt like walking into a monument to power—glass, steel, and the cold stench of indifference. It sat in the heart of downtown L.A. like a throne built for men who played chess with people’s lives.

She stepped inside, heels tapping across marble, and three suits looked up. And dismissed her. Just like that.

Adrian shook hands, perfectly rehearsed, perfectly polished. Naya didn’t wait to be invited. She slid into the seat beside him, spine straight, mouth still.

The Judge barely glanced her way. The DA—an aging white man with stained cuffs and a thinning combover—spoke only to Adrian, like she was invisible.

“So, Wolfe,” he began, “if your client stays quiet and plays nice, we can keep the media frenzy from boiling over. The evidence is fragile, but her public image won’t survive another scandal. You understand?”

Naya smiled, slow and razor-edged. “Does it bother you I’m sitting right here, or are you just used to ignoring women?”

The room went silent. The Judge cleared his throat. “Ms. Rivera, this isn’t—”

“No,” she cut in, turning to the DA, her voice dipping low. “Let me finish.”

She looked directly at him now—sharp, unflinching.

“I didn’t steal anything. I didn’t launder money. I didn’t sign a single document I even knew existed until I was in a jail cell. You think because I wore a wedding ring, I had access? You think I was his partner in anything other than sex?”

The DA blinked.

“I’m not backing down,” she said. “You don’t get to paint me as a storybook villain just because Daniel Carter has better PR and a jawline you like.”

Adrian leaned back beside her. For once, he wasn’t managing the room. He wasn’t smoothing her edges or catching her before she burned everything down.

He was watching her. She could feel his eyes boring into her and a tingle ran up her spine even in her righteous anger.

The Judge stood quickly. “Meeting adjourned.”

But Naya was already up and gone before he’d finished the word.

***

The elevator doors closed behind her, as Adrian slid into it last minute.

“You were fire in there,” Adrian said, his voice still low, like the heat hadn’t left his throat yet.

Naya didn’t turn to him. “You thought I’d break, didn’t you?”

Her chest was still tight. Breath shallow. Rage still pulsing like a second heartbeat.

“No,” he said. Then after a beat: “I think I wanted you to.”

That made her look.

He was too close. The kind of close you can feel without touching. One more step and they’d be chest to chest.

“You like watching me lose control?” she whispered, tilting her head.

His reply came just as quiet. “I like seeing you take it back.”

The elevator stopped. But it wasn’t the exit that interrupted them. It was his phone.

It buzzed sharply in the stillness, and he checked the screen, swore under his breath.

“We need to go.”

The silence in the car wasn’t peaceful. It was the kind of quiet that hummed beneath the skin. Naya stared out the window. Her hands wouldn’t stop clenching. Her chest wouldn’t loosen.

She wanted to scream. Cry. Jump out of her own skin. Her body was still on fire from what she’d just done.

“You were incredible back there,” Adrian said finally.

“Not smart,” he added. “But incredible.”

She rolled her eyes. “You say that like they’re mutually exclusive.”

His grip on the steering wheel tightened. “They usually are.”

She turned her face back to the window. She didn’t want his validation. Except she did. A little. Because it felt good. Too good. And that scared the hell out of her.

Why him?

Why now?

Why did her body react to his voice like it had a mind of its own? Why did she want his mouth on hers again like it hadn’t nearly destroyed her the first time?

“I’m not one of your cases,” she muttered. “I’m not going to fall into line just because you smile at me.”

“I know.”

“Then stop looking at me like—”

The car jerked and Tires screeched. A black SUV cut into their lane out of nowhere. Adrian cursed and yanked the wheel. “Hold on!”

The SUV slammed against their mirror, then sped up and swerved again. Adrian gunned the engine. “We’re being followed.”

Naya gripped the door handle. “What—who—”

Another hit. The SUV clipped the rear fender, and the world spun.

Metal screamed. Tires burned. Naya cried out as the car twisted violently, her head snapping back just as the seatbelt locked hard across her chest. And then—impact. A brutal, jarring slam into something soft and unforgiving. Wet earth. Mud.

Then silence. Just the tick of the engine and her breath. Gasping. Shaking. Unraveling.

She turned her head, dizzy, chest seizing like it was too tight to hold air. Adrian was already watching her, eyes locked, hands on her face.

“Naya. Look at me.”

She blinked, disoriented. “What—what the hell just—”

“You’re okay.” His voice was low, steady, but his hands were still trembling against her cheeks. “You’re not bleeding. Just bruised. Deep breaths.”

She tried. Inhaled. Flinched. It hurt.

“That wasn’t random,” she whispered, the words cracking out of her throat.

“No.” His jaw clenched, voice dark. “Someone’s making this personal.”

Her hands trembled as they clenched into her lap. Her whole body shivered, and not from the cold. Her thoughts blurred. Her breath stuttered. She couldn’t process, couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe—

And then she lunged.

It wasn’t graceful. It wasn’t strategic. It was desperate.

She needed something to hold on to. Something solid. Something real in a world that had just spun out of control. Her arms wrapped around Adrian’s neck, her fingers fisting in the collar of his shirt as she buried herself against his chest.

“You saved me,” she whispered, voice so soft it barely counted as sound.

He didn’t move to pull away. If anything, he held her tighter.

“You weren’t the one who needed saving,” he said, his voice hoarse.

And then his mouth was on hers.

Hard. Hungry.

There was no buildup. No hesitation. Just heat and contact and the raw need to forget the world outside. Teeth. Lips. Breath. She moaned into him, clutching at his shirt like it was the only thing tethering her to reality. Her nails scraped down his spine. He growled low against her mouth and pulled her closer, rough hands under her jacket, dragging her over the console like he didn’t care about bruises or boundaries.

She shifted instinctively, thighs parting as her back hit the car door. Steam began to fog the glass, the chaos between them boiling over into the air around them.

She kissed him like he was air. He kissed her like he’d drown without her.

His hands slid beneath her shirt, rough palms skating across her skin like he was memorizing her shape in a panic, and she gasped.

What the hell was wrong with her?

Why did he feel like both danger and deliverance? Why did her whole body scream yes when every rational thought in her head whispered run? She didn’t know and She didn’t care. Not in this moment.

But then—a crackle. Sharp. Loud. A police radio burst to life from the dashboard, crackling with static and garbled chatter.

Adrian froze.

He didn’t speak, didn’t move. Just rested his forehead against hers, both of them panting, chests heaving in the thick silence.

“Not here,” he whispered, voice raw

and frayed.

She closed her eyes, breathing through the ache. He was Right.

Not here. Not now.

But God help her, she didn’t know how long she could go without touching him again.