Chapter 9 Chapter 9

Adrian’s sleek black car pulled up to the entrance of a private rooftop restaurant, the city lights glittering below like scattered diamonds. Rain had cleared, leaving a fresh, sharp scent in the air. My stomach fluttered—not entirely from nerves. I tugged at the hem of my blouse, trying to steady my racing heart.

“Mrs. Jonas,” Adrian said, his voice low, smooth, teasing just slightly. “Ready?”

I hesitated. “I… I suppose.”

He didn’t wait for more. His hand brushed mine as he opened the car door, just the slightest touch—but it sent a jolt through me that had nothing to do with revenge.

The restaurant was quiet, intimate. Candles flickered on every table, and a soft jazz band played in the corner. Adrian led me to a table overlooking the skyline.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he asked, his gaze catching mine. There was a softness in his eyes now, something almost… vulnerable.

“Yes,” I breathed, though my mind was racing. This is part of the plan, I reminded myself. He’s helping me get Daniel’s attention. Nothing else.

But as he pulled out my chair and gestured for me to sit, I caught a glimpse of something different in him—care, consideration, a warmth I hadn’t expected.

“Wine?” he offered. “Red?”

I nodded. “Sure.”

The waiter poured, and Adrian leaned back slightly, studying me. “You’ve changed,” he said quietly.

I blinked. “What do you mean?”

“You’re… sharper. Stronger. I’ve seen the fire in your eyes, Elena. And now… you look unstoppable.”

I laughed, a short, incredulous sound. “Unstoppable? You mean dangerous?”

He tilted his head, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “There’s a fine line between the two. And you’ve crossed it.”

I felt heat rise to my cheeks. The playful banter, the subtle teasing—it was almost intoxicating. And yet, I reminded myself, this was tactical. This was part of our “marriage plan.” Adrian was a weapon. I couldn’t afford to lose focus.

The conversation flowed easily after that. He asked about my recovery, my plans, my thoughts. And I found myself answering—not just giving polite replies, but opening up in ways I hadn’t done with anyone in years.

“You know,” he said, leaning slightly closer, “Daniel doesn’t deserve you. Not even a fraction of your pain, your strength… your mind.”

The words hit me harder than I expected. My fists clenched under the table, but not in anger—something else, something unfamiliar. Protection? Desire? A mix of both?

“And yet,” I whispered, “I still can’t stop thinking about him. About what I’ve lost.”

Adrian’s gaze softened. “That’s natural. But what you do next… that’s what defines you. Not him.”

A sudden breeze from the rooftop stirred my hair. I realized I was acutely aware of every detail—his presence, the angle of his jaw, the warmth of his hand as he briefly brushed mine while reaching for the wine. My pulse betrayed me, reminding me I was human, not just a weapon in a plan for vengeance.

Dinner arrived—carefully plated, exquisite—but I barely noticed. We spoke of business lightly, teasing each other about imagined strategies, laughing quietly. And yet, beneath it all, the undercurrent was unmistakable: a push and pull, a tension neither of us could fully deny.

“Mrs. Jonas,” Adrian said, voice dropping, close enough that I felt the faintest heat from his chest against my shoulder, “you know we have a mission. A contract. Revenge. But—”

“Yes?” I asked, leaning just slightly forward, my pulse quickening.

“But,” he continued, voice low and deliberate, “I can’t pretend there isn’t… something else between us. Something dangerous. Something I’d never allow myself if you weren’t so… intriguing.”

I swallowed, heat rising. “I—” My voice caught. I wanted to deny it, push it away, remind myself this was all tactical, all strategy. But the truth was undeniable—the spark was there, impossible to ignore.

He reached across the table, fingers brushing mine lightly, deliberately. The contact was electric, a current running up my arm, igniting something deep inside.

“This… this is wrong,” I whispered, more to myself than him.

He smiled—a slow, knowing smile that sent a thrill through me. “Maybe,” he said softly. “But sometimes, wrong feels like the only way to get right.”

The city lights shimmered behind him, the music a soft pulse in the background, and I realized the line between strategy and desire was blurring, just slightly—but dangerously.

A toast. We raised our glasses, wine clinking softly. “To new beginnings,” he said.

“To… power,” I added, letting the word roll off my tongue, tasting like revenge, like fire, like something forbidden.

And then, just as the night felt perfect, my phone buzzed.

A message from an unknown number: “Tonight. You’re making a mistake.”

I froze, heart hammering, Adrians’s gaze sharp and questioning.

“What is it?” he asked, concern flickering in his eyes.

I didn’t answer immediately, staring at the text, a cold shiver crawling down my spine. The warmth, the tension, the almost-romance—everything froze.

Something—or someone—was watching.

And just like that, the perfect night, the tension, the sparks, and the plan—all hung by a thread.

My breath stalled. The restaurant’s golden glow suddenly felt dimmer, the soft music fading beneath the pounding in my ears. I swallowed hard, fingers tightening around my phone.

Adrian noticed instantly. Of course he did.

His eyes sharpened, jaw flexing once. “Elena,” he said slowly, “what happened?”

I forced a shaky smile. “Nothing. It’s—probably spam.”

But my voice betrayed me. It wavered. Cracked.

Adrian’s gaze dropped to my phone, then back to my face. “Don’t lie to me.”

That tone—quiet, dangerous, unyielding—made it impossible to hide.

“It’s probably someone messing with me,” I whispered.

Adrian didn’t move, didn’t blink. He simply leaned forward, elbows on the table, dark eyes fixed on mine as though he could peel back my thoughts one by one.

“Let me see it.”

I hesitated. But something inside me, something tired of carrying everything alone, surrendered. I handed him the phone.

He scanned the message once. His expression didn’t change, but something in the air around him did—charged, tense, protective.

“Whoever this is,” he said, voice smooth but edged with steel, “they’re close enough to know you’re with me tonight.”

My stomach flipped. “What does that mean?”

“That someone is watching. Or someone is reporting.”

His gaze lifted to mine, steady and unshaken. “Either way, you’re safe with me.”

A warmth spread through me—a mix of fear and comfort. I hated that his reassurance eased something inside me. I hated that I wanted to believe him.

I didn’t get a chance to respond. Adrian stood, subtly but abruptly, and extended his hand toward me.

“Come with me.”

My pulse jumped. “Where are we going?”

“Somewhere more private.”

Heat crawled up my neck, but I placed my hand in his anyway. The contact was warm, firm, grounding. He led me toward a secluded balcony attached to our dining area. City lights spilled across the sky like glitter, casting golden reflections onto his face.

He closed the door behind us, shutting out the noise, the waiters, the rest of the world.

“Now,” he said quietly, “tell me what you’re thinking.”

I exhaled shakily, leaning on the railing. “I don’t know. I just… I didn’t expect any of this. The message, the night, you—everything feels overwhelming.”

“Me?” he repeated, stepping closer.

I turned my head slightly, cheeks warming. “You know exactly what I mean.”

Adrian watched me with an intensity that made the air between us feel electric.

“I know what we said,” he murmured.

“No love. No intimacy. No crossing lines.”

My heart thudded painfully.

“But you and I both know,” he continued, voice dipping lower, “some lines were meant to be tested.”

My breath caught. I didn’t step back. I should have.

I didn’t.

The scent of his cologne—deep, earthy—wrapped around me. The city lights flickered against his eyes like a constellation woven into his stare.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” I whispered.

“So are you,” he countered. “Going out with me, knowing Daniel might see, knowing whoever sent that message might be watching. You came anyway.”

He wasn’t wrong.

Some part of me had wanted this night from the moment he suggested it. Wanted something that felt alive again. Something that made me feel like more than the woman Daniel threw away.

Adrian stepped closer until only inches separated us.

“You didn’t come here just for the plan,” he whispered.

“You came here because something between us is shifting.”

A tremor ran through me. “Adrian…”

Before I could say anything else, he gently reached up and tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. The touch was slow, deliberate, intimate in a way I wasn’t prepared for.

My knees nearly buckled.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured.

“I’m not,” I lied.

He smiled—a slow, infuriatingly confident smile. “You are.”

I hated the way my heart reacted. I hated the way my body leaned ever so slightly into his warmth.

“Relax,” he said quietly. “This isn’t my attempt to seduce you.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

His smirk deepened. “If I were trying, Elena… you’d know.”

A breathy laugh escaped me before I could stop it. And suddenly, the tension cracked—just a little.

He seemed to like that.

“We need to focus on the plan,” I said, steadying my voice. “This date was supposed to get Daniel’s attention. Make him jealous. Make him panic.”

“Oh, it will,” Adrian said confidently. He turned, resting his arms on the balcony railing beside me. “But jealousy alone won’t break him. We need something bigger.”

“What do you have in mind?” I asked.

His eyes gleamed. “A public reveal.”

My brows knit. “Reveal of what?”

“Our marriage.”

My heart stopped. “Adrian—”

“Not now,” he clarified. “But soon. At the right event. The right crowd. The right moment.”

I swallowed, throat suddenly dry. “You want the world to see us together?”

“Yes,” he said. “Because Daniel hates losing. And he hates losing publicly.”

He looked at me again, gaze sweeping over my face.

“And you? You’ll look untouchable standing beside me.”

I inhaled sharply—his confidence, the certainty in his tone, the way he saw a version of me I didn’t yet recognize… it stirred something fierce inside me.

A spark.

A hunger.

A woman reborn.

“Say it,” I whispered.

He looked confused. “Say what?”

“The real reason you want this public display.”

His jaw tightened. For the first time tonight, he looked… hesitant.

“Elena,” he said quietly, “if I say it, you won’t be able to ignore it anymore.”

I held his gaze. “Try me.”

A tense pause stretched between us.

Wind brushed my hair.

The city hummed below.

Finally, he leaned in just enough for his breath to brush my ear.

His voice dropped, soft but unmistakably honest:

“I want Daniel to see what he lost…

but I also want the world to see what I found.”

My breath hitched.

Before I could react—before I could process anything—

the balcony door burst open.

Adrian and I snapped our heads toward the sound.

A waiter rushed out, breathless.

“Sir—Mr. Blake—there’s… there’s someone inside asking for Mrs. Jonas. They said it’s urgent.”

My heart lurched.

Adrian’s hand instinctively moved to my lower back—protective, steady.

“Who?” he demanded.

The waiter swallowed. “A woman. She says her name is—”

He didn’t finish.

He didn’t have to.

Because a familiar voice—sharp, smug, venomous—cut through the air:

“Elena? Well, isn’t this cute?”

Mandy.

Standing in the doorway.

Smirking.

Confident.

And holding something in her hand—

something that made Adrian go still beside me.

I didn’t blink.

I didn’t breathe.

Because whatever Mandy had…

was about to change everything.