Chapter Nine

CHAPTER NINE

Adrian’s POV

It was strange, the calm that followed chaos. Like the silence after a thunderclap, or the quiet hum of city lights when you roll the window up. That’s how I felt this morning—oddly calm. It should’ve bothered me, how Nora managed to pull something out of me last night. A memory I hadn’t voiced in over a decade. But it didn’t. Not really.

I felt lighter.

And that alone made me suspicious of her. Of myself.

Nora Sinclair was a contradiction. She talked too much and yet somehow managed to say the things no one else dared to. She was soft and stubborn. Annoying and magnetic. Every time I was around her, I found myself reacting—not calculating. That unsettled me.

We closed work early today to prepare for the business trip. She had mountains of paperwork to submit before leaving, and I had more meetings than my calendar could breathe through. But sometime around 4PM, I told everyone to wrap it up. No need to impress me with their loyalty. I didn’t care. They weren’t her.

I didn’t tell her I’d be picking her up.

I didn’t have to.

The cab stopped at a narrow street lined with patched-up sidewalks and rusted gates. Children ran barefoot, dragging kites made of newspapes, and women yelled from balconies. The smell of burgers has raised the atmosphere. This was rural New York.

Her house stood in the middle. It was small. It has some faded blue paint and a metal gate hanging slightly off the hinges. It was nothing like mine.

The moment I stepped out, the neighborhood transformed.

"Oh my gosh! Look at that car!"

"Is that her boss?”

“Nora must've won some kind of lottery."

"Omo, this one na movie."

I ignored the whispers. Some part of me wanted them to see. To see what power looked like. But another part… the one that had sat across from Nora last night in the dark... that part just wanted her to know I didn’t care where she lived.

She stepped out after a minute or two. No heels. Just sandals and a brown duffel bag. Her hair was in a low bun, her jeans high-waisted, her blouse clean but clearly old.

And yet she still looked amazing.

“I didn’t know you’d be coming yourself,” she said, raising an eyebrow as she opened the car door.

“I didn’t plan to.”

“But you did.”

She was smiling. I didn’t want to smile back. But I think I did. Slightly.

The ride to the airport was quiet. She fell asleep halfway through, her head tilted toward the window. I should’ve told her to wake up. Instead, I turned the AC down and let her rest.

---

We arrived in Chicago just past 9PM. The hotel I’d booked was one of our mid-range partnerships. Discreet, modern, with suites for executives who hated excess but loved privacy.

“Only one suite?” she asked, staring at the gold keycard in my hand.

“It has two rooms,” I replied. “You’ll have yours.”

She nodded, clearly still unsure. But I had a feeling she’d understand by morning. She always did.

The suite was spacious. Her door on the left, mine on the right. In between us was a living room with a view of the city skyline, sleek furniture, and silence. The kind you only got in top floors.

She kicked off her shoes and sighed.

“No itinerary tonight?”

“No.”

“I can finally breathe.”

She moved to the window, pulling the sheer curtain aside. I watched her reflection in the glass—soft eyes, tired but full of something close to hope. Maybe even trust.

“You ever been to Chicago?” I asked.

She shook her head. “Never left New York till last year. I only moved to Seattle for school.”

“Why this job?”

She blinked, surprised. “Honestly? Because I needed the money.”

“That’s all?”

“No,” she said, turning fully to face me. “There’s more. I just didn’t think you cared.”

I didn’t answer.

She continued anyway.

“My dad was a factory worker. Mom ran a tiny canteen. We were okay. Not rich, not poor. Just… surviving. When I was 14, Dad got laid off. The factory was part of Sinclair Industries. My grandfather founded it decades ago, but the board sold shares without telling him. Now it’s barely breathing.”

She looked away for a second, fiddling with her hands. “It’s a dying name. But I want to revive it. I want to work hard, earn enough, learn enough, and one day buy it back. Expand it. Fix what they broke.”

I felt my jaw tighten.

Sterling Capital Group was already eyeing Sinclair Industries for acquisition. It was a clean sweep—take the assets, sell off liabilities, rebrand the name, make a profit. It was one of the easiest deals on our slate.

“You want to save it,” I said.

“Yeah. That’s why I pushed so hard to work here. I’ve read about you, you know? People say you’re ruthless, but fair. And you built this company from scratch. I figured if I wanted to learn how to fight for something, I should start here.”

I took a breath. “People say I’m ruthless?”

She smiled. “It’s not a bad thing. You’re focused. Intense. Scary, but... not heartless.”

That shouldn’t have affected me. But it did.

She sat on the armrest of the couch, now just a few feet from me. “I trust you, Adrian.”

My chest tightened.

“You shouldn’t.”

“I know. But I do. You remind me of someone who’s lost something and refuses to lose again. And I get that.”

God, why did she have to say things like that?

I turned away, moved toward the minibar. Poured myself a drink I didn’t even want.

It was clear. As clear as anything had ever been.

I loved Nora Sinclair.

Not in the way I loved power, or victory, or the cold thrill of closing a deal. But in the way a man fears falling. The way he braces before impact. The way he wonders if, just once, maybe the fall would be worth it.

But love was stupid. Dangerous. And I had a decision to make.

Would I risk everything I built—for a name she wanted to save? For a legacy I planned to destroy? For her?

She was sitting now, waiting for me to say something. Her eyes searching my face.

“I think I’ll sleep early,” I said, quietly.

“Oh.” She stood. “Okay.”

“Goodnight, Nora.”

“Goodnight... Adrian.”

I closed my door behind me, leaned against it, and exhaled.

It was clear that I loved her.

But it wasn’t clear if I’d burn everything I was to protect something she loved.

And that terrified me more than anything else ever had.