Adrian
Adrian Black did not chase women.
He had never needed to.
If someone wanted him, they found a way into his orbit. If they didn’t, he respected the distance. Desire had always been something that came easily to him—simple, uncomplicated, and disposable.
Mila Torres was none of those things.
She had walked away from him.
Not dramatically. Not angrily.
Just… quietly.
Like he was ordinary.
The thought scraped against something raw inside his chest.
He returned to Blackspire Tower long after midnight, the city sliding past in blurred streaks of neon and shadow. His driver said nothing. Marco sat in the passenger seat, tapping at his phone, aware enough not to ask questions.
Adrian stared out the window, replaying the way Mila had looked at him beneath the streetlight.
I won’t
