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After he left

作者: M-writez
last update 最終更新日: 2025-12-30 00:58:39

The apartment didn’t go back to normal after Adrian Blackwood walked out.

It stayed… altered.

Like the air had been rearranged and forgotten how to settle.

I stood in the middle of my bedroom long after the door clicked shut behind him, staring at the exact spot where he’d paused before leaving. One hand on the frame. Jacket slung casually over his arm. Blue eyes lingering like he’d left something behind on purpose.

Or taken something with him.

My heartbeat refused to slow, stubborn and traitorous.

“Get it together, Iris,” I muttered, dragging a hand down my face.

My reflection in the mirror looked the same—messy hair, oversized sleep shirt, bare feet—but my eyes didn’t. They were too sharp. Too awake. Like I’d been shaken out of a version of myself I couldn’t return to.

I glanced at my phone on the nightstand.

7:42 a.m.

Remote work.

Blessing. Curse.

I sat down at my desk, laptop already open, the familiar interface grounding me in something normal. Emails. Calendar notifications. Files waiting to be reviewed.

Work. Safe. Neutral.

I lasted exactly four minutes before my thoughts betrayed me.

The way he’d said my name this morning—low, unhurried, like time bent around it.

The way he’d looked at me like I wasn’t fragile or trapped or owned… but chosen.

The way he hadn’t touched me—and somehow made that worse.

Control without contact.

I swallowed hard and forced myself to focus, fingers moving over the keyboard. Numbers. Reports. Tasks I could do in my sleep.

Then a message notification slid onto my screen.

Adrian Blackwood:

You’re quiet.

I stared at it.

Of course he noticed.

Me:

I’m working.

The typing indicator appeared immediately.

Adrian Blackwood:

So am I.

I scoffed softly. “Liar.”

Me:

You don’t need to check in on me every hour.

A pause.

Long enough to make my shoulders tense.

Then—

Adrian Blackwood:

I don’t need to.

I choose to.

Heat crawled up my neck.

Me:

That’s… not comforting.

Another pause.

Adrian Blackwood:

It wasn’t meant to be.

I leaned back in my chair, exhaling slowly. There it was again—that subtle tilt, that reminder that he operated on a different axis entirely.

Me:

You showing up this morning wasn’t about work.

This time, the pause stretched.

I imagined him in his office—composed, unreadable, deciding how much truth to allow me.

Adrian Blackwood:

No.

My fingers tightened on the desk.

Me:

Then what was it about?

Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.

Adrian Blackwood:

Observation.

What the actual f*ck?

I laughed, sharp and incredulous.

Me:

I’m not a specimen.

Adrian Blackwood:

No.

You’re a variable.

That word again.

Me:

You talk about me like I’m a math problem.

Adrian Blackwood:

Math problems can destabilize entire systems.

I should’ve shut my laptop. Walked away. Grounded myself in something real.

Instead, I typed:

Me:

And did I pass your… observation?

Several seconds passed.

Long enough for my stomach to knot.

Adrian Blackwood:

You surprised me.

My pulse skipped.

Me:

That doesn’t sound like something you enjoy.

Adrian Blackwood:

On the contrary.

I squeezed my eyes shut for a brief second.

This was dangerous. Not loud-dangerous. Quiet-dangerous. The kind that sneaks up on you wearing tailored suits and restraint.

Me:

You can’t keep showing up unannounced.

Adrian Blackwood:

I won’t make a habit of it.

I opened my eyes.

Me:

That’s not a no.

Adrian Blackwood:

No. It’s not.

I bit the inside of my cheek, fighting the ridiculous urge to smile.

God help me.

A new message appeared.

Adrian Blackwood:

Did you sleep?

The shift caught me off guard.

Me:

Eventually.

Adrian Blackwood:

Did you dream?

I stared at the screen, heart thudding.

Me:

You’re crossing into personal territory.

Adrian Blackwood:

You crossed that line when you looked at me like you did this morning.

I felt heat pool low in my stomach, unwelcome and undeniable.

Me:

You don’t get to decide what my looks mean.

Adrian Blackwood:

No.

But I get to interpret the effect.

I pushed back from the desk and stood, pacing the room.

This wasn’t flirting. Not exactly.

It was a chess match played with eye contact and restraint.

Me:

You like being in control too much.

A pause.

Then—

Adrian Blackwood:

I like knowing when I’m losing it.

I stopped pacing.

That admission—quiet, precise—landed harder than anything else he’d said.

Me:

And am I… making you lose it?

The typing dots appeared.

Disappeared.

Appeared again.

Longer this time.

Finally—

Adrian Blackwood:

You’re testing limits.

Me:

You’ve been doing that since the day we met.

Another pause.

Adrian Blackwood:

True.

The difference is, now you’re aware of it.

I exhaled slowly.

Me:

So what happens now?

The reply came almost instantly.

Adrian Blackwood:

Now… we proceed carefully.

I snorted.

Me:

You don’t do “careful.”

Adrian Blackwood:

I do.

I just don’t do harmless.

Silence followed.

Not awkward. Not empty.

Charged.

My phone buzzed with one final message.

Adrian Blackwood:

Finish your work.

Eat something.

Lock your door tonight.

I frowned.

Me:

That last part wasn’t necessary.

Three dots.

Then—

Adrian Blackwood:

I know.

Consider it indulgence.

I stared at the screen long after the chat went quiet.

After he left me alone with my thoughts, my racing pulse, and the undeniable truth curling in my chest.

Whatever this was becoming—

It wasn’t accidental.

It wasn’t one-sided.

And it definitely wasn’t over.

Adrian Blackwood had stepped into my space today.

And instead of pushing him out—

I’d made room.

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  • The contract that owned me   After he left

    The apartment didn’t go back to normal after Adrian Blackwood walked out.It stayed… altered.Like the air had been rearranged and forgotten how to settle.I stood in the middle of my bedroom long after the door clicked shut behind him, staring at the exact spot where he’d paused before leaving. One hand on the frame. Jacket slung casually over his arm. Blue eyes lingering like he’d left something behind on purpose.Or taken something with him.My heartbeat refused to slow, stubborn and traitorous.“Get it together, Iris,” I muttered, dragging a hand down my face.My reflection in the mirror looked the same—messy hair, oversized sleep shirt, bare feet—but my eyes didn’t. They were too sharp. Too awake. Like I’d been shaken out of a version of myself I couldn’t return to.I glanced at my phone on the nightstand.7:42 a.m.Remote work.Blessing. Curse.I sat down at my desk, laptop already open, the familiar interface grounding me in something normal. Emails. Calendar notifications. Fil

  • The contract that owned me   He came without warning

    The first thing that woke me up wasn’t my alarm.But blue eyes staring into the depths of my soul.And guess who it was? Who could it be if it was not the one and only Adrian Blackwood.When I was just adapting to the remote work and working from the comfort of my home.I jerked up from my bed, confused.“Mr. Blackwood—what are you doing here?”He didn’t answer immediately.That was the first thing that unsettled me.Adrian Blackwood stood in my bedroom like he belonged there—tailored black coat discarded over the chair, sleeves rolled back just enough to reveal his watch, his presence heavy in the air. Morning light filtered through the curtains, catching in his eyes, turning that familiar blue into something darker. Sharper.Predatory.“You scream my name in your sleep,” he said calmly. “I thought I should check on you.”My heart slammed against my ribs.“I did not—”“You did,” he interrupted, voice smooth, almost amused. “Twice.”I swallowed hard, suddenly too aware of the fact tha

  • The contract that owned me   Invisible hands

    Remote work was supposed to feel like freedom.That was the lie people sold it with—soft pajamas, flexible hours, distance from authority. Space. Control. Choice.By the third day, I understood the truth.Distance didn’t weaken Adrian Blackwood’s reach.It refined it.My apartment had become an extension of his office without a single piece of furniture moving.The first sign was the calendar.I woke up at 6:43 a.m. to the gentle buzz of my tablet—no alarm, no sound sharp enough to startle. Just a vibration timed to the exact moment my sleep cycle thinned.I hadn’t set it.The screen lit up.BLACKWOOD SYSTEMS — DAILY STRUCTUREA full schedule bloomed into view.Meetings I hadn’t accepted yet.Calls pre-confirmed.Breaks inserted with unnerving precision.Even my lunch window was marked.I stared at it, blanket pooled around my waist, irritation simmering.“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I muttered.My phone buzzed almost immediately.Adrian Blackwood:You’re awake.I glanced at the tim

  • The contract that owned me   The things i don't say

    Adrian's POV11:58 p.m.The city looked harmless from this height.That illusion always amused me.New York liked to pretend it was chaos—noise, crowds, neon distractions—but from my office, fifty-seven floors above ground, it was orderly. Predictable. Governed by systems that responded to pressure the way they were designed to.People were no different.I stood by the window, one hand resting against the cool glass, the other curled loosely at my side. Below me, headlights traced familiar routes. Patterns I’d memorized long ago.Control wasn’t about force.It was about understanding movement.I checked the security feed on the tablet in my other hand.Camera three.Iris Hale’s apartment building.Exterior only.She’d gone inside twenty-three minutes ago.Good.I set the tablet down and loosened my tie, though the tension in my shoulders had nothing to do with the fabric. The events of the morning replayed in my mind—not with uncertainty, but with precision.The breach had been expect

  • The contract that owned me   THE WORDS THAT DON’T LET GO

    The apartment felt different when I got back.Too quiet. Not peaceful—watchful.I locked the door behind me, twisting the bolt twice even though I knew how useless that would be if someone truly wanted in. The silence pressed against my ears, thick and deliberate, as if the walls themselves were holding their breath.I dropped my bag by the door and leaned against it, eyes closed.You were never supposed to be visible yet.The message replayed in my mind, over and over, like a bruise you keep pressing just to confirm it’s real.Not Adrian.I knew that with the kind of certainty that settles in your bones. Adrian Blackwood didn’t send warnings. He issued outcomes. He didn’t hide behind anonymous numbers or half-spoken threats.If Adrian wanted me afraid, he’d make sure I understood exactly why.I pushed myself upright and walked deeper into the apartment, flicking on lights as I went. Everything was where I’d left it that morning. Couch. Table. The half-read book on the armrest. The fa

  • The contract that owned me   Interruption

    The first thing that went wrong was the silence.Blackwood Systems was never silent.Even early mornings carried a low hum—keyboards, distant voices, the soft whir of elevators. It was the sound of momentum. Of things moving forward whether you were ready or not.That morning, when I stepped off the elevator, the floor was still.Too still.No assistants at their desks. No low conversations. No movement behind the glass offices lining the perimeter.Just me.And the lights—dimmed.I stopped short, heart stuttering.Maybe I was early.I checked my phone.7:12 a.m.Not early.I took a few steps forward, heels echoing louder than they should have. My desk sat exactly where it always did, immaculate, untouched. Adrian’s office beyond it was dark.That had never happened.I set my bag down slowly, unease crawling up my spine.Then my tablet lit up.Not with the usual calendar.With a message.SYSTEM NOTICEACCESS TEMPORARILY SUSPENDEDMy breath caught.“What?” I whispered.I tapped the scr

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