Chapter 2

Adrian didn’t believe in mixing business and pleasure.

That rule had kept her life orderly for years. Clean lines. Clear expectations. Control. She built her world that way on purpose, brick by brick, careful not to let anything—or anyone—blur the edges.

Tonight, the rule felt thinner than usual.

The restaurant Elliot chose was discreet in a way money couldn’t buy. No sign outside. No obvious entrance. Just a quiet host who knew their names and led them to a table tucked away from the rest of the room. Privacy wasn’t advertised here. It was assumed.

Dinner had begun professionally.

Legal timelines. Expansion risks. The kind of conversation Adrian could navigate in her sleep. She listened, asked questions, challenged when needed. Elliot matched her pace easily, sharp and deliberate.

It was only after the second glass of wine that she noticed the shift.

“You don’t slow down,” Elliot said, studying her over the rim of his glass.

Adrian smiled faintly. “I don’t see the benefit.”

“It’s not a criticism,” he replied. “Just an observation.”

She tilted her head slightly. “And what does it tell you?”

“That you don’t trust stillness,” he said calmly. “Because stillness gives people time to look too closely.”

The words landed with more accuracy than she liked.

“You’re analyzing me,” she said.

Elliot’s mouth curved, subtle but intentional. “Occupational hazard.”

She leaned back in her chair, composed, but aware now. “You’re standing close to a line.”

“I know exactly where it is,” he said. “And I know you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t want to test it.”

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. It was charged. A quiet recognition passing between them.

Adrian reached for her wine, then stopped when her phone buzzed against the table.

She glanced down.

Celeste:

Are you out?

Her brows pulled together slightly.

Adrian:

Dinner. Why?

Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.

Celeste:

Just checking on you 💗

Adrian locked her phone and placed it face down beside her plate.

Elliot noticed the movement. Of course he did.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said after a brief pause. “Just noise.”

“Then let me be the quiet,” he replied.

His hand brushed hers.

The contact was light. Intentional. Not an accident.

Adrian didn’t pull away.

She felt it immediately—the shift in awareness, the way her focus narrowed. She could end this easily. Move her hand. Reassert distance. She’d done it a hundred times before.

Instead, she met his gaze.

“You’re confident,” she said.

“I’m careful,” Elliot corrected. “There’s a difference.”

She studied him. Elliot never rushed. Never demanded. He waited, as if time was something he owned.

“You should know,” Adrian said quietly, “I don’t give access lightly.”

His thumb traced the edge of her knuckle, barely there. “I wouldn’t insult you by asking for it.”

The moment lingered longer than it should have.

Across the city, Celeste Ashford sat at her kitchen table, phone glowing softly in the dim light. She reread Adrian’s message once. Then again.

Dinner.

Her smile was practiced. Polite. Controlled.

Proximity wasn’t about permission.

It was about patience.

And Celeste had always been very patient.