The office was quieter than usual that night. Most of the building had emptied, leaving behind only the hum of the air conditioning and the distant glow of the city through the tall windows. Amelia had promised herself she would finish the report before midnight, no matter how much her eyes burned from staring at her laptop screen.

Her fingers hovered over the keys, mind foggy. Every few seconds, she caught herself glancing toward the corner office. The light was still on. Adrian was still here.

She cursed under her breath, both at her distraction and at him. Why did he have to stay late, too? He had an entire floor of assistants and yet, tonight, he'd chosen to handle something himself. A part of her wondered if it was deliberate.

Amelia tried to shake the thought off and forced her gaze back to the report, but the sound of his footsteps in the hallway pulled her attention like gravity. A moment later, he was leaning against her doorway, jacket off, tie loosened, his white shirt rolled at the sleeves.

"You're still here," he said, voice deep but quieter than usual.

"I could say the same about you." She tried to keep her tone neutral, but her pulse quickened.

He glanced at her desk, at the half-finished document. "Let me guess... You won't leave until it's perfect?"

"It's not for you," she muttered, though they both knew every piece of work she touched eventually passed across his desk.

Adrian chuckled softly and walked in, pulling out the chair opposite her. He sat down, stretching one arm along the back of the seat as if he owned the space. "Perfection is a curse. You'll kill yourself trying to reach it."

"And yet you expect nothing less," she shot back.

Their eyes locked, and for once, his didn't hold that sharp edge of command. There was something softer there, something almost... tired.

"Maybe I expect it because I know you're capable of it," he said.

The words caught her off guard. Compliments from Adrian were rare, and when they came, they felt heavier than gold. She swallowed, forcing herself to look back at the laptop. "Flattery won't get you out of finishing your own work."

"Who says I'm trying to get out of it?" His voice dropped lower, more intimate. "Maybe I wanted an excuse to sit here."

Her throat tightened. The room felt warmer suddenly, too close, too silent except for the sound of her heartbeat.

She closed the laptop with a snap. "If you're trying to distract me, it's working."

"Good." His smile curved lazily, the kind of smile that was both dangerous and disarming.

......

They ended up side by side, laptops open, working in silence. At least, that was the plan. But Amelia was too aware of him-of the faint brush of his arm against hers whenever he leaned closer, of the way his cologne lingered between them, subtle but intoxicating.

She typed three sentences before realizing she hadn't actually registered a word she'd written.

"Stuck?" he asked, eyes flicking toward her screen.

"No," she lied. "Just thinking."

"About the report?"

"Of course," she replied, too quickly.

He chuckled again, low and knowing. "You're a terrible liar, Amelia."

Her head snapped toward him, ready to protest, but the look in his eyes stopped her. He wasn't mocking her. He was studying her, peeling back layers she hadn't meant to show.

She swallowed hard. "You don't know me well enough to make that judgment."

"Don't I?" He leaned in slightly, their shoulders brushing. "I know you stay later than anyone else. I know you'd rather overwork yourself than admit you need help. I know you push people away because letting them close feels dangerous."

Her breath caught. He couldn't possibly know that... and yet, he did.

"You don't know me," she whispered, but it lacked conviction.

His gaze softened, losing its usual sharpness. "I'd like to."

The admission hung in the air, raw and heavy. Amelia turned back to her laptop, but the words on the screen blurred. She couldn't think, couldn't breathe properly.

For so long, she had convinced herself she was immune to him. What he wanted was control, another conquest. But sitting there in the quiet, with his voice low and honest, she saw a crack in the armor he wore.

And it scared her more than anything.

......

Hours slipped by. At some point, Adrian rose and crossed to the window, staring out at the city lights. His hands were tucked into his pockets, posture relaxed but contemplative. Amelia found herself watching him, wondering what was going through his mind.

"You know," he said without turning, "people think power is about how much control you have over others. But most of the time, it's about how well you can control yourself."

Her brow furrowed. "That sounds like something you'd say to justify your... methods."

He glanced over his shoulder, lips twitching. "Maybe. Or maybe it's what I tell myself when I'm standing too close to something I want but shouldn't take."

Her stomach flipped. The way his eyes lingered on her left no doubt what he meant.

She stood abruptly, needing space, needing air. "I should go. It's late."

"Stay," he said quietly, almost a plea.

She froze. He rarely asked-he commanded. But tonight, the word carried a different weight, a vulnerability she hadn't expected.

When she turned back, his expression was unreadable. Yet she saw it-the shadow of loneliness, the trace of something human beneath the man everyone feared.

"Adrian..." Her voice trembled despite her best efforts. "This is dangerous."

"Everything worth wanting is," he replied.

Silence stretched between them, thick and electric. Amelia's chest ached with the force of her own restraint. She wanted to step forward, to close the distance, to give in to the pull she had denied for weeks.

But she couldn't. Not yet.

With a sharp inhale, she grabbed her bag. "Goodnight."

She walked out without looking back, but his voice followed her, low and certain.

"This isn't over, Amelia. Not even close."

......

That night, lying awake in her bed, Amelia replayed every word, every look, every unspoken admission. For the first time, the lines between her professional life and her personal desires blurred beyond recognition.

And she wasn't sure she wanted to redraw them.

Breaking Point

The office was unusually quiet, the kind of silence that pressed into the skin, thick and unrelenting. Amelia's heels clicked against the marble floor as she entered Adrian's glass-walled sanctuary, carrying a folder too heavy with tension to be just paper. She had avoided him all morning, burying herself in tasks, answering calls, scheduling meetings, anything to distract from the way last night replayed in her head like an endless loop. His hand on hers at the restaurant, the way his eyes had darkened when she'd laughed, how the air between them had seemed to crackle with something raw and unspoken.

He didn't look up immediately when she entered. He was behind his desk, jacket discarded, shirt sleeves rolled up, a storm brewing in the lines of his face. He was studying numbers on a screen, his jaw locked in that familiar rhythm of restrained power. But Amelia knew-she felt it deep in her chest-that he was aware of her the moment she stepped into the room.

"Mr. Kane," she started, her voice steadier than she expected. "The quarterly report-"

"Leave it," he cut her off, his voice low, gravel dragged across steel. His eyes flicked up then, pinning her in place, and Amelia forgot how to breathe.

Something inside her twisted. She should put the folder down, step back, and retreat into the safety of professionalism. But her feet didn't move. Neither did his gaze.

"Amelia." He said her name like it cost him something, like it tasted dangerous on his tongue. "Why are you really avoiding me?"

Her lips parted, a weak denial perched there, but the truth was louder. Because you terrify me. Because every time you look at me like that, I forget who I am. Because last night, I almost leaned across the table and kissed you, and I don't know how much longer I can pretend that I don't want to.

She swallowed. "I'm not avoiding you. I've just been... busy."

The corner of his mouth twitched, though it wasn't quite a smile. He stood, moving around the desk, and Amelia's pulse spiked. There was something predatory in his stride, the air shifting as though the room belonged entirely to him. When he stopped a breath away, she caught the faint scent of his cologne-dark, addictive, like smoke curling over bourbon.

"You're lying," he said simply.

Her throat tightened. "You think you know me so well?"

"I do." His voice dropped, each word deliberate. "I know the way you bite your lip when you're hiding something. I know the way your voice changes when you're nervous. And I know"-his eyes dragged over her face, slow, consuming-"that you've been thinking about last night as much as I have."

Heat rushed up her neck, burning her cheeks. Her hands tightened on the folder, her only shield, though it felt laughably fragile now. "Adrian..." His name escaped before she could catch it, soft and trembling, and the sound of it hanging in the air seemed to undo him.

In one swift motion, he took the folder from her hands and tossed it onto the desk behind him. Papers scattered, but neither of them looked. His fingers brushed against hers in the process, and that slight touch was enough to shatter what little distance remained.

"You drive me insane," he muttered, more to himself than to her. His hand hovered near her waist, close enough that she felt the heat of him, yet not quite touching. It was restraint, a thread pulled tight, threatening to snap. "Every damn day, Amelia. Do you have any idea what you're doing to me?"

Her breath hitched. She should stop this. She should remind him he was her boss, remind herself she had everything to lose. But logic drowned under the weight of the way he was looking at her, like she was the only person who had ever truly rattled the walls he'd built.

Her hand lifted of its own accord, fingers brushing against his forearm, tracing the line of muscle there. The contact was featherlight, tentative... yet it ignited a spark that raced up her arm and lodged in her chest.

Adrian's eyes closed for half a second, his jaw clenching, as though he was fighting himself. When he opened them again, the restraint was still there, but it was fraying fast.

"This is a mistake," she whispered, even as her body leaned closer.

"Maybe," he said. His lips were so close she felt his words graze her skin. "But it's the only thing that feels real."

The tension snapped. He pulled her against him, his mouth crashing down on hers with the force of a dam breaking. It wasn't gentle; it was desperate, consuming, like years of control crumbling in an instant. Amelia gasped against him, her hands gripping his shirt as though the ground had disappeared.

The kiss deepened, heat spiraling, pulling them under. Every press of his lips, every drag of his tongue, tasted like forbidden promise. He held her like a man starved, one hand cupping the back of her neck, the other gripping her waist, anchoring her to him.

She melted, surrendering, the world narrowing to the feel of him-hard, unyielding, overwhelming. But beneath the hunger, there was something else, something softer that scared her even more: the way he kissed her like he needed her, not just her body, but her presence, her very existence.

When they finally broke apart, both breathing ragged, his forehead rested against hers. The silence that followed was deafening, their hearts pounding in sync.

"This..." she whispered, her voice trembling. "We can't..."

His thumb brushed her lower lip, swollen from his kiss, and his eyes burned with conflict. "I know. But tell me you don't feel it. Tell me you don't want this, and I'll stop."

Her chest rose and fell rapidly, the truth clawing at her. She couldn't lie-not when her body betrayed her so thoroughly, not when every nerve screamed for him.

"I do," she admitted, the confession barely audible. "I want this... I want you."

Adrian closed his eyes, his jaw tightening as though the words both freed and destroyed him. He kissed her again, softer this time, lingering, before pulling back just enough to meet her gaze.

"Then we're already past the point of no return," he murmured.

The sound of a knock on the office door shattered the moment. Amelia froze, panic flooding her veins. Adrian didn't move immediately, his body still pressed to hers, his breath warm against her temple. But after a heartbeat, he straightened, releasing her, his expression hardening into the familiar mask of composure.

"Come in," he called, his voice impossibly steady.

One of his managers stepped inside, oblivious to the storm that had just raged in that room. Amelia scrambled to collect herself, smoothing her hair, adjusting her blouse, and praying her lips didn't look as bruised as they felt.

As the man droned on about numbers, Adrian returned to his desk, every line of his body controlled, but Amelia could see it-the tension in his shoulders, the flicker in his eyes when they met hers across the room.

Something had shifted irrevocably. The line they'd been toeing for weeks was gone, crossed, and burned to ash.

And Amelia knew, with a mix of fear and exhilaration, that nothing between them would ever be the same again.

The night clung to Amelia like a second skin. Even after she left Adrian's apartment, even after the cool evening air should have sobered her, the heat of what almost happened between them burned beneath her ribs. Every step she took down the quiet street carried the weight of restraint and regret, her pulse still thrumming with the memory of his hands, his voice, his nearness.

She hated herself for wanting more. She hated him for making her feel it. And above all, she hated the silence that stretched between them after they tore themselves apart, before it could go too far.

When Amelia finally reached her apartment, she closed the door a little too hard, as if she could slam out the lingering echoes of his touch. The walls of her space felt narrow, suffocating, filled with questions she couldn't silence. Dropping her keys on the counter, she pressed her palms to her face and let out a muffled groan.

"Stupid," she whispered into the darkness. "So stupid."

But it hadn't felt stupid when he had leaned in, when his eyes searched hers as though she were the only thing he wanted in that moment. It hadn't felt stupid when her body betrayed her, leaning back into his touch, silently begging for more.

It was wrong. He was dangerous-not in the way of violence, but in the way of temptation, in the way that stripped down her control until she was bare and trembling. And yet... she couldn't stop replaying it.

......

Across town, Adrian sat at his desk in the half-lit glow of his study, staring at a glass of whiskey he hadn't touched. His mind wasn't on the reports scattered in front of him. It was on her, Amelia, with her flushed cheeks and trembling breath, when he had almost kissed her.

Almost.

The word mocked him. He had always been a man who finished what he started, but with her... he found himself caught in limbo. One second away from crossing the line he had promised himself never to cross.

She had looked at him like he was both her undoing and her salvation, and it terrified him. Because Adrian knew-once he took that step, there would be no going back.

He swore under his breath and pushed the untouched whiskey aside. The taste of her lingered on his tongue, even though they hadn't kissed. That, more than anything, was what kept him restless.

......

The next morning, Amelia thought a shower would help. It didn't. Thought burying herself in work would help. It didn't. By noon, she had read the same line in a document at least ten times, her mind stubbornly replaying Adrian's voice, low and rough in the dark.

A knock startled her. She looked up to find her best friend, Tasha, leaning in the doorway, arms crossed.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," Tasha said, arching a brow. "Or worse... a man."

Amelia groaned and pressed her forehead to the desk. "Not today, Tasha."

"Ah, so it is a man," Tasha teased, stepping into the room. "Spill. You know you can't hide it from me."

Amelia sat up, staring at her friend with wide eyes. "What if I told you I almost... ruined everything?"

Tasha perked up. "Almost? That word saves lives, babe. What happened?"

The memory flooded her again-the way Adrian had cornered her against the wall, the heat of his breath so close, the pull between them like gravity itself. Amelia's chest tightened. "I almost kissed him. No... he almost kissed me. I don't even know who leaned in first."

Tasha blinked. Then a slow grin spread across her face. "And you didn't?"

Amelia shook her head violently. "No! I couldn't. I shouldn't. He's... It's complicated."

Tasha tilted her head. "Complicated like... married?"

"What? No!" Amelia blurted out, horrified.

"Good. Because if that was the case, I'd slap you right now." Tasha plopped onto the couch, smirking. "So... he's single, you're single, the chemistry's explosive, and yet you're here sulking instead of letting yourself have fun. Make it make sense."

Amelia's voice dropped. "He's not just any man. He's... different. Dangerous."

Tasha studied her for a moment, then sighed. "Dangerous, or the kind of man who makes you feel alive after years of shutting yourself down?"

Amelia froze. The words hit too close. She hated how true they sounded.

......

Adrian, meanwhile, wasn't faring much better. His closest confidant, Marcus, walked into his office unannounced, catching him mid-thought.

"You look like hell," Marcus said flatly.

Adrian shot him a glare. "Good morning to you, too."

Marcus sat without invitation. "What's her name?"

Adrian stilled. "What makes you think this is about a woman?"

"Because I've known you for years," Marcus replied smoothly. "Work stress makes you sharp, restless, on edge. This? You look... distracted. Like someone got under your skin."

Adrian exhaled slowly, leaning back. "Amelia."

Marcus let out a low whistle. "The one you've been keeping at arm's length?"

Adrian didn't answer. He didn't need to. Marcus's grin said it all.

"You're screwed, my friend," Marcus chuckled. "You either need to stay far away from her... or accept that whatever's brewing won't vanish on its own."

Adrian clenched his jaw. He knew Marcus was right. But staying away felt impossible. And giving in felt like setting fire to everything he had worked so hard to control.

......

Days blurred. Amelia avoided Adrian like her sanity depended on it. Late nights at the office were no longer shared. Texts went unanswered. She thought she was protecting herself... but in truth, she was unravelling.

By Friday, she was restless enough to accept Tasha's invitation to a rooftop bar. Music pulsed, laughter carried on the wind, and for a while, Amelia let herself relax. A drink in her hand, the city lights glittering below-it almost felt normal.

Until she saw him.

Adrian, across the rooftop, was standing tall in a tailored suit that caught the glow of the neon lights. His eyes found hers instantly, as though he had been waiting.

Her heart stuttered. The world tilted.

Tasha leaned in, whispering, "Well, well. If it isn't your dangerous man."

Adrian didn't look away. His gaze burned through the crowd, pinning her in place. Every fibre of Amelia's body screamed to run... and yet, when he started walking toward her, steady and sure, she couldn't move at all.

The air thickened with tension as he stopped just before her, close enough for her to smell the faint spice of his cologne.

"Amelia," he said, voice low, dangerous in its calm. "We need to talk."

She swallowed hard, caught between dread and desire. "About what?"

His eyes darkened. "About the night we can't stop remembering."

The night felt heavier than usual, draped in silence that pressed against Amelia's skin like a second layer. She lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, unable to quiet the storm inside her. Adrian's touch still lingered on her wrist, ghostly and persistent, as if he had branded her without permission. She hated that she remembered the warmth of his palm, the steady rhythm of his pulse, the way his eyes softened in that brief moment of weakness... and she hated herself more for wanting it again. Sleep was impossible. Every time she closed her eyes, fragments of the evening replayed in her mind-his words, his distance, the almost-kiss that had hovered in the air between them before reality shattered it. By dawn, she had made a decision. She was done living in shadows. If Adrian wouldn't give her answers, she would find them herself.

When Amelia arrived at the firm that morning, the city was barely awake. The air was damp, fresh with possibility, yet her chest carried the weight of betrayal waiting to be unearthed. She sat at her desk, coffee untouched, scrolling through files she shouldn't have access to. Adrian's office door remained closed, as always, a wall between them both professionally and personally. But for once, his absence was her shield. She slipped a flash drive into the computer, fingers trembling as she searched through encrypted folders marked with innocuous labels. Behind every click, her heart pounded louder, telling her she was crossing a line she might never return from. And then... she found it. A file buried under layers of misleading names. When it opened, the screen filled with documents-contracts, bank transfers, evidence of negotiations Amelia didn't recognize. Her breath caught in her throat as the truth stared back at her. Adrian wasn't just working on corporate mergers. He was tied to something far darker, something that explained his guarded nature and his need for control. She scrolled faster, bile rising in her throat. Every new document was a nail in the coffin of the man she thought she was beginning to know.

"Looking for something?" The voice was low, smooth, and much too close. Amelia froze, her hands jerking away from the keyboard like a guilty child caught stealing candy. Adrian leaned casually against the doorway, but his eyes burned with quiet fury. His tie hung loose, his sleeves rolled up, and the darkness in his gaze made her chest tighten with both fear and longing.

"I-" she stammered, her voice failing.

He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming the small office space. "Don't lie, Amelia. Not now. You wanted answers, didn't you? So go on. Tell me what you found."

Her throat tightened as she struggled to breathe. The screen still glowed behind her, damning and undeniable. "You're not who you pretend to be," she whispered. "You've been hiding everything from me... from everyone. What is all this? Why are you involved in..." Her words faltered as the magnitude of what she'd seen pressed down on her.

Adrian's jaw clenched, the flicker of vulnerability passing through his eyes before he masked it with his usual steel. "You should have stayed out of it."

"Stayed out of it?" Amelia rose to her feet, anger igniting in her chest. "How could I, Adrian? You've pulled me into your world since the moment we collided. You can't keep expecting me to follow blindly when you give me nothing but shadows in return."

Silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken truths. Adrian's hand twitched at his side as though he wanted to reach for her but couldn't allow himself the indulgence. Finally, he spoke, his voice rough. "If I tell you everything, Amelia, you'll never look at me the same way again."

Her heart ached at the rawness in his tone. "Then try me. Because right now... not knowing is worse than the truth."

For a moment, the mask slipped completely. Adrian's shoulders sagged, his eyes filled with a grief that stole her breath. He stepped closer, his fingers brushing against hers with a tenderness contradicting the storm raging between them. "You don't understand what you're asking," he murmured. "Once you know, there's no undoing it. You'll be tangled in this with me."

Her pulse raced as she met his gaze, unflinching. "Maybe I already am."

......

His lips parted, as though he wanted to speak, to break the chains of silence finally he had lived behind for so long. But instead of words, he leaned closer, his breath mingling with hers, and for one suspended heartbeat, the world seemed to hold its breath. Amelia's eyes fluttered shut, her chest rising and falling in rhythm with his. Then, just as their lips were about to meet, Adrian tore himself away as if burned.

"Not like this," he said hoarsely, turning his back on her. "If you knew the truth, you wouldn't want me anywhere near you."

Anger and longing clashed violently in Amelia's chest. "Stop deciding for me, Adrian. Stop assuming you know what I want." Her voice cracked, betraying her desperation. "I can handle the truth. What I can't handle is you pushing me away every time I get close."

His shoulders tensed, and for a long moment, he didn't move. Finally, he spoke, his voice so quiet she almost missed it. "The truth has a way of destroying everything it touches. Including you."

......

The silence that followed was unbearable. Amelia wanted to scream, to demand answers, to shake him until he gave her something real. Instead, she gathered her bag and brushed past him, her heart shattering with every step. She didn't look back. She couldn't. Not when the only thing she would see was the man she wasn't sure she could save... or let go of.

The silence stretched between Amelia and Adrian like a taut string, ready to snap at the slightest movement. The air in his penthouse was charged, thick with emotions neither of them dared to name. She stood by the wide glass window, arms wrapped tightly around herself, gazing at the city lights twinkling below. He leaned against the doorframe, eyes fixed on her as though she were the only anchor in his world... and the very storm threatening to drown him.

"You can't keep doing this," Amelia said softly, her voice trembling with exhaustion. "Pulling me close one second, then pushing me away the next. I'm not a toy, Adrian. I can't..." Her words faltered, swallowed by the lump forming in her throat.

Adrian's jaw tightened. He dragged a hand through his hair, pacing slowly across the room. "Do you think it's easy for me? Do you have any idea what it takes to hold myself back when every instinct in me wants to..." His voice trailed off, the confession hanging unspoken in the space between them.

"Then don't hold back," she whispered, surprising herself.

He froze. Those words-raw, daring-ripped through his defenses. For a long moment, he simply stared at her, his chest rising and falling with the force of emotions he usually locked away. When he finally crossed the distance, his steps were heavy, deliberate, as though each one carried the weight of surrender.

"Amelia..." His voice was a low growl, threaded with both warning and desire. "If I touch you now, I don't think I'll be able to stop."

Her heart hammered. Her body screamed to close the gap between them, to bridge the aching distance with reckless abandon. "Maybe I don't want you to stop," she said, her courage laced with vulnerability.

He reached out, cupping her face gently, almost reverently, his thumb brushing her cheek. She closed her eyes, leaning into the warmth of his palm, and for a heartbeat, it felt as though the world outside ceased to exist. His lips hovered dangerously close, the heat of his breath fanning her skin.

But then... he pulled back. The sharpness of the break cut through her like ice water.

Amelia's eyes snapped open, confusion etched on her face. "You're doing it again," she accused, stepping back. "You're pulling me into your world, then shutting the door in my face. Why? What are you so afraid of?"

Adrian turned away, his back to her, fists clenched at his sides. "Because you don't know what it costs to be near me," he muttered. "You don't know the danger I bring. Everything I touch falls apart. And you... You're the one thing I can't risk destroying."

Her breath hitched. The raw pain in his voice was undeniable, but so was the ache in her chest. She moved closer, reaching for him, her hand brushing against his tense forearm. "You don't get to decide what I can or can't handle. That's my choice, Adrian. Not yours."

He turned then, eyes dark and haunted, locking onto hers with a force that nearly stole her breath. "What if my world swallows you whole? What if loving me ruins you?"

"Then at least it will be my ruin," she whispered fiercely. "Not because you never gave me a chance."

The room quaked with the unspoken truth between them. He stared at her, as though searching for weakness, for hesitation-but all he found was determination. Slowly, carefully, he lowered his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling in a fragile, intimate rhythm.

Time blurred. Neither of them moved, caught between desire and restraint, love and fear. And in that fragile pause, Amelia realized something terrifying and exhilarating all at once: she was already in too deep.

......

The following morning, Amelia awoke tangled in sheets that still smelled faintly of Adrian-his cologne, his warmth, his presence. She lay there for a long time, staring at the ceiling, piecing together the fragments of the night. Nothing had happened... not in the way her racing mind replayed, but everything had changed. The line had shifted, blurred, tangled beyond recognition.

When she entered the kitchen, she found him there, shirt sleeves rolled up, coffee steaming on the counter. He glanced up, his usual guarded mask slipping for just a moment, replaced by something softer. Something that made her chest ache.

"Morning," he said, voice gruff but tender.

She bit back a smile. "Morning."

The quiet between them wasn't uncomfortable this time. It was loaded, yes, but in a way that felt like a promise. She sipped her coffee, watching him from the corner of her eye, and wondered if he realized he had already let her in further than he intended.

But even as warmth settled in her chest, a shadow lingered. Because deep down, Amelia knew the war inside Adrian was far from over. And the deeper she sank into his world, the harder it would be to climb back out.

......

That night, as she lay in bed, her phone buzzed. A message flashed across the screen: Stay away from him, if you know what's good for you.

Her heart stopped.

The words were a threat, cold and unmistakable. And just like that, Amelia understood-being with Adrian wasn't just about tangled hearts and blurred lines anymore. It was about survival.