14

Chapter 14

Darcy's POV

In my study, I thought about the tense conversation I had with Adrian a few hours ago. I wasn't satisfied with all she said about waking up when the police men kicked down the door and she didn't know who put the drugs in her bags.

Someone did it, if not her. It wasn’t a ghost work. I’m certain of that. This isn’t the whole story. It's either she did it, or someone else knows more than they’re willing to admit.

The investigation had to happen. I couldn’t ignore Adrian’s story, no matter how convincing her tears had been or how real her pain seemed. Pink’s safety depended on my making rational, informed decisions—not ones clouded by emotion or, God help me, attraction.

I picked up my phone and dialed Mark’s direct line.

“Sir?” he answered immediately.

“I need a full investigation into Adrian Martinez’s conviction,” I said without preamble. “Contact everyone involved—the prosecutor, her public defender, the arresting officers. I want to know if there’s any truth to her claim that she was framed.”

“I can start calling this afternoon. Should I focus on anything in particular?”

“Yes. Find out who she was involved with at the time of her arrest. She said she was ruined, which means it was someone she trusted used her, but she won’t give a name. Check the case files for any associates or partners.”

“Understood. Anything else?”

I hesitated. “Be discreet. I don’t want this getting back to her until we have answers.”

After hanging up, I moved to the window of my study. Adrian and Pink caught my attention. They sat at a small iron table under the huge old oak tree.

A tea set was spread between them. Even from this distance, I could see Pink gesturing excitedly, talking nonstop, while Adrian listened, smiling softly.

They looked… natural. So right.

I told myself I was observing, monitoring Adrian’s behavior with my daughter. But it was more complicated. “I felt pulled to her in ways I couldn’t explain, ways that made me hate myself.

Pink leaned forward and spoke with the serious intensity only a three-year-old could have. Adrian’s smile disappeared. Her hand touched her chest as if something had hit her. Even without hearing the words Pink told her, I could see the pain in her face. Deep, raw, and heartbreaking.”

Adrian wiped at her eyes, quickly trying to compose herself, but I’d seen the tears. Glimmering in the sunlight before she brushed them away. Pink reached out and touched her arm, offering comfort without hesitation.

The gesture twisted something in my chest. Pink, my daughter, who had been wary of everyone but me, was comforting this woman she barely knew.

Adrian pulled Pink into a hug, holding her close. Her shoulders shook slightly. Whatever they were talking about, it was affecting both profoundly.

I should look away, give them privacy. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t tear my eyes from Adrian’s face, from the vulnerability she showed my daughter in this moment.

She was beautiful. Not the polished, calculated beauty of my social circle—all designer clothes, perfect makeup, practiced smiles. Adrian’s beauty is impossible to ignore. It was real. Raw.

She wore a simple sundress that made her more beautiful. It held her curves so tight. I want her badly.

Her waist was small, her long legs were toned, and she walked with designed grace.

I cut off the thought before it went too far. She was my employee, an ex-con I was supposed to watch, not desire. Pink’s nanny. That’s all.

But my body didn’t care about logic. Every time I saw Adrian, caught her light floral scent, or heard her laugh with Pink, I wanted her with a desire I couldn’t control.

At work, I tried to focus on work. The quarterly reports blurred. Emails went unanswered. I found myself glancing out the window again and again, recalling moments of Adrian and Pink in the garden.

The merger documents sat untouched on my desk. Conference calls passed in a haze, voices and words half-heard. My mind kept returning to the garden—the tears on Adrian’s face, the way she held Pink like she was something precious.

What had they talked about? What had made her cry?

By the time I left the office that evening, it was nearly nine. The merger negotiations had run late, and traffic had been brutal. Exhaustion weighed heavily on me, but so did frustration. I needed a drink.

The mansion was quiet. Most of the staff had gone to bed. Leo gave a brief nod near the stairs, still on duty.

“Everything alright?” I asked.

“All quiet, sir. Miss Pink went to bed around seven-thirty. Ms. Martinez is busy in the playroom.”

I nodded, removed my tie as I headed upstairs. The silk felt tight, suffocating—like everything in my life lately.

Pink’s door was slightly open. I checked on her. She laid on her bed asleep while she held her favorite rabbit toy. She looked so small, so vulnerable.

The playroom was just down the hall. I heard soft sounds inside—fabric rustling, toys being sorted, a quiet hum of melody I didn’t recognize.

I should have walked away. Poured a drink. I tried to forget her and how she consumed my thoughts.

But my feet carried me to the doorway. I was drawn by something I didn’t want to name.

What I saw stopped me.

Adrian was bent over, reaching under the toy chest. Her position displayed her in a way that stole my thoughts completely.

I got aroused instantly.

Her dress had pulled up a bit showing her thighs. The body looked perfect in the fabric.

Her hair had fallen over one shoulder, showing her neck line.

She focused on the toys she was cleaning, she didn't know when I watched her.

The dress clung to every curve as she shifted. My mind went blank except for one thought: how badly I wanted her.

Heat surged through my body. My perker hardened. I held the doorframe to steady myself. My body responded before I could even think, desires rushed through me in strong, aching waves.

Every muscle tensed. My fingers dug into the wood until it hurt. My breath caught as she moved again, giving me another glimpse.

I thought of reaching her quickly with urgency,pulling her in my arms then tracing her lips with my tongue and kissing her deeply. Feel her hands on my skin. I want her so much I wish to replace any thought she might have of someone else,then I'd be the only one she remembers

The thoughts were dark, primal, and entirely inappropriate.

I am a man of control and self-discipline or at least I thought I was.

But now, as I stood there and watched her bend, seeing her thighs...

I felt wild. Possessive. Desperate in a way I had never experienced before.

I want to touch her, taste her, to pull her close. My body desires her but it was utterly wrong.

I needed to leave. Now. Before I did something we’d both regret. Before I crossed a line I could never uncross.

But I couldn’t move. Couldn’t look away. Couldn’t do anything except stand there, trapped, drowning in want.

Adrian shifted again, reaching under the chest. Her dress rode up another inch. My control slipped further.

I had to get out. I had to create distance before I lost myself completely.

My knuckles turned white on the doorframe as I held it too tight. I bit my lower lip hard. Every muscle was stiff with pressure from unfulfilled desire.

This woman was going to undo me. I knew it for sure. Each day she stayed in my house, every moment with Pink, every stolen glance—it all wore down my control, until nothing would stop me from claiming what I wanted.

And God helped us both when that moment came.

Then I walked in...