CHAPTER FIVE

Adrian’s POV

Last night was a mistake.

At least, that’s what I’ve been telling myself since I stepped into my office this morning. Yet, no matter how many times I replay it in my head, I can’t shake the feel of her against me—the warmth of her skin, her beautiful ocean eyes, the way her breath hitched when I pulled her close. The way she looked at me.

Like I was something more than the arrogant bastard she despises.

I exhale sharply, dragging a hand through my hair. Enough. This isn’t some foolish romance. I don’t crave anyone, and certainly not a woman who gets under my skin like she does.

But then why the hell can’t I stop thinking about her?

My fingers tighten around the pen in my hand, the muscles in my forearm flexing. The lingering scent of her perfume—something soft, almost sweet—still clings to my mind. I should’ve never asked her to dance. Never let myself get that close.

I glance at the massive windows behind my desk, the skyline of New York stretched out before me. It’s a distraction, a pathetic attempt to focus on anything but the way my chest tightens at the thought of her. I need to put distance between us. No, I need to remind her—and myself—that last night meant nothing.

I reach for the intercom, pressing the button with more force than necessary.

“Nora, in my office. Now.”

I don’t wait for a response before releasing the button, leaning back in my chair. My jaw is tight, and my pulse is annoyingly uneven.

It takes barely a minute before the door swings open. She steps in, and for a brief second, I forget how to breathe.

She’s wearing the same defiance she always does, shoulders squared, chin lifted. But I see it now—how her lips part slightly, how her fingers twitch at her sides. Last night got to her too.

Good.

“You called?” Her voice is steady, but I don’t miss the hint of irritation beneath it.

I arch a brow. “Is that how you address your boss?”

Her jaw clenches, but she forces out, “Sir.”

Better.

“I have a list of meetings that need scheduling,” I say, pushing a stack of papers toward her. “Reschedule the ones I don’t have time for, confirm the ones I do. And get me a coffee—black, no sugar.”

Her fingers tighten around the papers, but she doesn’t argue. Not yet.

I tilt my head, watching her carefully. “And while you’re at it, the decor in this office is starting to annoy me. Fix it.”

Her eyes snap to mine. “Fix it?”

“Yes. You do know what that means, don’t you?”

Her lips press into a thin line. I see it now—the way she’s restraining herself. She wants to argue, to throw one of those sharp remarks back at me. But she doesn’t.

Interesting.

“Anything else, sir?” Her voice drips with forced politeness.

I smirk, leaning back in my chair. “That should keep you busy. Unless you’d rather stand here wasting more of my time.”

She exhales sharply, spins on her heel, and walks out.

I don’t let my gaze linger. I don’t watch the sway of her hips or the way the irritation lingers in her posture. Because that would mean admitting this game we’re playing is affecting me. And it’s not.

It’s not.

—

The door to my office swings open again, but this time, the air shifts. A cold presence settles in, bringing with it an unshakable tension.

Victor Sterling.

My father.

I don’t bother standing. He doesn’t deserve that kind of respect.

“Adrian,” he greets, voice calm, calculated.

“Victor.”

His lips twitch, just slightly. He hates it when I call him that. Good.

He steps forward, his gaze sweeping over my office like he owns it. And in his mind, he probably does. “We need to discuss business.”

I lace my fingers together. “We’re already running multiple acquisitions this quarter. What more is there to discuss?”

His eyes narrow. “Your future.”

A cold weight settles in my stomach. I already know where this is going.

He takes a seat across from me, posture rigid. “You and Vivienne.”

I exhale slowly. “Not happening.”

He tilts his head, studying me. “You’re being childish.”

“I’m being logical,” I counter. “Vivienne and I are over.”

“She’s a Laurent. Their connections—”

“Are worthless to me.” My voice is sharp, cutting. “She used me. And you approved of it because her family is wealthy.”

Victor leans back, fingers tapping against the armrest of the chair. “Business is business, Adrian.”

My hands curl into fists beneath the desk. “You talk about business like it’s all that matters.” My voice lowers, rough with something dangerous. “Did my mother matter?”

For the first time, something flickers in his gaze. But it’s gone in an instant.

“She was weak.”

Something inside me snaps.

I push to my feet, palms slamming against the desk. “Say that again.”

His expression remains cold. “Your mother was weak. She let emotions control her. And look where that got her.”

The breath in my lungs turns razor-sharp. My mother was kind. Too kind for a man like him. And he destroyed her.

My fists clench at my sides, the rage boiling over. “You don’t get to talk about her like that.”

Victor rises, his presence suffocating. “You can’t run from this, Adrian. The Laurent merger will happen. You will marry Vivienne.”

“No.” My voice is steel. “I will never let you dictate my life again.”

The silence stretches between us, thick with tension. Then, he exhales sharply. “Pathetic.” His voice drips with disappointment. “You’re still that same weak boy, clinging to fantasies.”

His words are meant to cut. And they do.

Before I can respond, the door swings open.

Nora.

Her eyes flick between us, taking in the suffocating tension.

Victor scoffs. “And this is what you waste your time on?”

My jaw tightens. “Leave.”

He straightens his cuffs, then turns toward the door. But just before he steps out, he pauses. “You’ll come to your senses. You always do.”

The door clicks shut behind him.

I don’t move. Don’t breathe.

I can feel Nora’s gaze on me, burning with unspoken questions.

I don’t give her the chance to ask.

“Get back to work.” My voice is sharp and controlled.

She hesitates but eventually turns away.

As the door closes behind her, I release a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. My chest is tight; my hands are still curled into fists.

Last night, I let my guard down. And this morning, I thought I could control it.

But as I stare at the door she just walked through, I know one thing for certain.

I’m already losing.