"Sophie won't stop talking about him," Ethan snapped, slamming his coffee cup onto the glass conference table.

I sat across from him in my new corner office at Whitmore Capital, reviewing the final custody filing. "Then maybe you should have shown up to eat waffles with her instead of shooting promo reels with Vanessa."

"That was business!" Ethan’s face flushed an ugly shade of crimson. "Sophie is my daughter. She drew a picture this morning of three people holding hands, and the man had black hair and a suit. She told me Candidate Adrian gave her modern stars. Who the hell does Blackwood think he is? I want you to ban him from being anywhere near her."

I looked up from the documents, meeting his glare with utter indifference. "You don't get to dictate who Sophie spends time with during my custody hours, Ethan. Especially when you're the one who repeatedly abandons her."

"You're using our child to flirt with a billionaire," Ethan sneered, leaning over the desk with a vicious smirk. "Do you honestly think a man like Adrian Blackwood cares about a kindergartener? He runs half the private shipping lanes in North America. He's only hanging around because he wants to sleep with a newly divorced woman. The minute he gets you into bed, he’ll vanish."

I stood up, closing the folder with a sharp snap.

"Get out of my office before security escorts you to the sidewalk," I said quietly.

Ethan glared at me for five long seconds before turning on his heel and storming out the door.

***

That evening, the annual Maritime Logistics Gala filled the rooftop pavilion of the Grand Hyatt.

Crystal stemware sparkled under dim ambient lighting, and jazz played softly over the sound of rain tapping against the panoramic glass windows. I was standing near the terrace entrance when Ethan caught up to me again.

He gripped my upper arm, pulling me away from a group of regional port directors. "Claire, we need to talk about the custody schedule before you sign those papers tomorrow."

"Let go of my arm, Ethan," I said, my voice dropping to a sharp, icy whisper.

Across the room, standing beside a round cocktail table with a glass of bourbon in hand, was Adrian.

He wore an impeccably tailored black tuxedo, his tall, broad frame commanding attention from everyone nearby. He had clearly seen Ethan grab me. Yet he didn't charge across the room, nor did he make a dramatic scene. He simply stood there, watching us with intense, steady gray eyes, giving me the space to handle my own battles.

I twisted my arm out of Ethan's grip with force.

"If you ever touch me in public or private again," I told Ethan, stepping directly into his personal space with absolute authority, "my father's legal team will petition for an emergency protective order and a custody review by midnight. Try me."

Ethan took a step back, startled by the venom in my voice. He opened his mouth to argue, but the sheer coldness in my eyes silenced him. He adjusted his jacket, glanced nervously toward Adrian across the hall, and hurried toward the bar.

Ten minutes later, I stepped into the private express elevator to head down to the parking garage.

Before the heavy bronze doors could slide shut, a large hand caught the edge of the sensor.

Adrian stepped inside.

The doors closed, sealing the two of us inside the mirrored, dimly lit space. The elevator began its smooth, silent descent from the fiftieth floor.

"You didn't step in," I said, breaking the silence as I stared at our reflections in the polished bronze panel.

"You didn't need me to," Adrian replied smoothly, his low baritone resonating in the small enclosure. "You dismantled him in less than twenty seconds."

I turned my head to look at him. "You stared at us the entire time."

"I did."

"Why?" I asked, raising my chin slightly.

Adrian turned to face me fully. The calm detachment he wore in crowded ballrooms stripped away, replaced by an intense, smoldering focus.

"Because every time he touches you," Adrian said, his voice dropping into a rough, low rumble, "I want him to stop."

A sudden surge of heat rushed through my veins. I held his gaze, refusing to look away even as my pulse picked up speed.

"What gives you the right to be jealous, Mr. Blackwood?" I asked, my voice steady despite the tension tightening the air between us. "You're Sophie's candidate. You're not mine."

Adrian took a single step forward.

The sheer size of him dominated the small elevator. He closed the distance between us until the heat radiating from his chest brushed against the fabric of my dress. He raised one hand, his long fingers hovering just an inch from my cheek, close enough for me to feel his warmth, but he didn't touch me.

He didn't trap me. He left the final move entirely in my hands.

"Then tell me to step back, Claire," Adrian murmured, his eyes searching mine with raw honesty. "Tell me you don't want this."

The air between us seemed to burn away to nothing. For six years, I had been an ignored accessory in Ethan's life, a woman constantly told she was inadequate, unwanted, and disposable.

Now, the most powerful man in the city was standing in front of me, waiting for my permission just to touch me.

I reached out.

My fingers curled firmly around his silk tie, and I yanked him down.

I pressed my lips against his.

The control Adrian had maintained shattered in an instant.

A low growl vibrated in his chest as his hands locked around my waist, lifting me effortlessly and pinning my back against the cool wall of the elevator. His mouth claimed mine with an urgent, possessive hunger that took my breath away.

His lips parted mine, deep and demanding, tasting faintly of rich bourbon. One of his large hands slid up to cradle the back of my neck, his fingers tangling into my hair, holding me firmly in place while his other arm locked securely around my lower back, pulling me flush against his hard chest.

Every rational thought in my mind dissolved under the sheer heat of the kiss. My hands moved up his chest, gripping the lapels of his suit jacket as I kissed him back, matching the fierce rhythm of his mouth. The electric charge between us was intoxicating, a sudden release of days of restrained tension.

His thumb stroked the soft skin beneath my jaw, his lips trailing down to the corner of my mouth, pressing hot, lingering kisses against my jawline.

*Ding.*

The elevator chime chimed softly, indicating we had passed the twentieth floor.

The sound cut through the haze in my head like a splash of cold water.

I placed both hands flat against Adrian's broad chest and pushed firmly, turning my head aside.

Adrian stopped instantly.

He didn't fight my resistance. He kept his hands resting on my waist to steady me, his chest heaving as he stared down at me with darkened, heavy gray eyes.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady my racing heart.

"My daughter is interviewing fathers," I said, my voice breathless but firm as I forced myself to meet his gaze. "I'm not interviewing lovers."

Adrian remained still for two long seconds, studying my flushed face and trembling lips.

Slowly, his thumb rose, gently wiping a smudge of lipstick from the corner of my mouth with an easy, confident tenderness.

"Then don't make me one," Adrian replied, his voice a low, raspy promise, "unless that's all you want."