Fire meets Ice
1602 Words
Mila
Mila told herself she wouldn’t think about him.
She told herself that Adrian Black was just another powerful man with too much control and not enough humanity. She told herself that whatever had happened on that quiet street had been nothing more than adrenaline and exhaustion mixing into something that felt bigger than it was.
She told herself a lot of things.
None of them worked.
Three days passed.
Three days of replaying his voice in her head. Three days of remembering the way he’d stepped closer without touching her. Three days of catching herself scanning crowds for a familiar dark coat and unreadable eyes.
It annoyed her.
She didn’t get like this over strangers.
She didn’t let men live rent-free in her thoughts.
By Friday night, she was back at The Rusted Crown, moving between tables with practiced ease, balancing trays and dodging drunk elbows. The bar was packed, loud with music and laughter and the clatter of glasses.
She focused on work.
That was easy.
Work didn’t ask questions.
She was wiping down the counter when Jasmine leaned over, eyes wide.
“Please tell me you see who just walked in.”
Mila didn’t look up. “If it’s another bachelor party, I swear—”
“Mila.”
Something in Jasmine’s tone made her glance toward the door.
Her stomach dropped.
Adrian Black entered the bar like he owned it.
He didn’t announce himself. He didn’t need to. The air shifted as soon as he stepped inside. Conversations softened. People straightened. Even the music felt like it lowered itself out of respect.
He wore dark jeans and a fitted black coat tonight, no suit, no tie—casual by his standards. His hair was slightly undone, as if he’d run a hand through it too many times. Two men followed him inside and took positions near the walls.
Adrian’s eyes swept the room once.
Then they found her.
Mila felt it like a physical touch.
She turned back to the counter quickly, heart kicking against her ribs.
Nope.
Absolutely not.
She grabbed a stack of clean glasses and started organizing them with unnecessary aggression.
Jasmine hissed, “Do you know him?”
Mila didn’t answer.
She pretended to be deeply invested in aligning coasters.
Footsteps approached.
She didn’t look up.
“Whiskey,” a familiar voice said.
Low. Calm.
Her spine straightened despite herself.
She finished placing the glass she was holding and turned slowly.
“Yes?”
Adrian stood directly in front of her.
Up close, he was worse.
Taller than she remembered. Broader. His presence filled the space between them effortlessly. His dark eyes studied her with open curiosity, as if she were a puzzle he hadn’t solved yet.
“You work here,” he said.
Mila raised an eyebrow. “Gold star.”
His lips twitched.
She reached for a bottle. “Whiskey. That’ll be twelve.”
Adrian glanced at the register. Then back at her.
“I was expecting a warmer welcome.”
Mila poured the drink without looking at him.
“You’re expecting too much.”
She slid the glass across the counter.
He didn’t pick it up.
Instead, he leaned in slightly.
“You disappeared pretty fast the other night.”
Her hand paused.
She met his gaze.
“I went home.”
“Without saying goodbye.”
“We weren’t on a date.”
He smiled faintly.
“No.”
There was something in that smile that made her pulse jump.
She hated it.
“Drink or don’t,” she said. “You’re blocking customers.”
Adrian straightened and took the glass.
“Still stubborn.”
“Still observant.”
He took a slow sip, never breaking eye contact.
Her throat went dry.
“Is this where you intimidate bartenders now?” Mila asked.
He tilted his head. “Do I look like I’m intimidating you?”
She studied him deliberately.
“No,” she said. “You look like you’re trying too hard.”
His eyes darkened.
“Careful.”
She shrugged. “You started it.”
A man at the end of the bar cleared his throat loudly, clearly uncomfortable with the tension humming between them.
Adrian finally turned away.
“For now,” he said.
He moved to a table near the back, his men taking positions nearby.
Mila exhaled slowly.
Jasmine grabbed her arm.
“Are you insane?”
Mila shook her off. “He’s just a customer.”
“That’s Adrian Black.”
“Then he can tip like one.”
She forced herself back into motion, delivering drinks and collecting empty glasses, but she could feel Adrian’s attention on her from across the room.
It burned.
She didn’t look at him again until he waved her over.
Reluctantly, she approached his table.
“Yes?”
“You’re busy.”
She gestured around. “Welcome to Friday.”
He studied her face.
“You didn’t answer my question the other night.”
“What question?”
“Why you weren’t afraid.”
She crossed her arms.
“Maybe I am.”
He shook his head. “No. You’re not.”
Her lips pressed together.
“Fear doesn’t help me,” she said finally. “It just wastes energy.”
Adrian considered that.
“Most people fear me.”
“Most people don’t know you.”
His eyebrow rose. “And you do?”
She hesitated.
“No,” she admitted. “But I know men like you.”
His gaze sharpened.
“Explain.”
She met his eyes evenly.
“Powerful. Used to being obeyed. Surrounded by people who tell you what you want to hear.”
A corner of his mouth lifted.
“And?”
“And you think control is the same thing as connection.”
The words landed between them.
Adrian didn’t speak for a moment.
Then he leaned back in his chair.
“That’s an interesting theory.”
Mila shrugged. “I have a lot of those.”
He watched her like he was reassessing something.
“Sit.”
She blinked. “Excuse me?”
“Sit,” he repeated, nodding toward the chair across from him.
She let out a short laugh.
“No.”
His men stiffened.
Adrian lifted a hand, stopping them.
“You don’t take orders well.”
“I take tips.”
That amused him.
“Five minutes,” he said. “I’ll pay.”
Mila hesitated.
Her manager caught her eye from across the room and gave a small nod.
Fine.
She sat.
Up close, the tension between them became undeniable. Mila could feel the heat of his body, the controlled power in the way he held himself. Adrian noticed the way she kept her spine straight, the way her foot bounced lightly under the table, the way her eyes flicked briefly to his hands and back to his face.
“You always challenge people like this?” Adrian asked.
“Only the ones who think they own the world.”
He studied her. “And what do you think of me?”
She didn’t answer right away.
“Honestly?”
“Yes.”
She met his gaze.
“I think you’re lonely.”
The word hit him harder than any insult.
His expression didn’t change.
But something in his eyes did.
“Wrong,” he said quietly.
“Then prove it.”
Adrian’s jaw tightened.
“You don’t know anything about me.”
“Then stop pretending you know everything about me.”
Silence stretched between them.
The noise of the bar faded into background hum.
“You’re not afraid of consequences,” Adrian said.
Mila shook her head. “I’m just tired of living small.”
His gaze softened almost imperceptibly.
“That’s dangerous.”
“So is standing still.”
Their eyes locked.
Neither of them looked away.
For a moment, Mila forgot where she was. Forgot the bar. Forgot the people watching. There was only Adrian’s steady gaze and the strange awareness blooming in her chest.
Adrian felt it too.
He hadn’t intended for this.
He’d come to the bar out of curiosity, nothing more. He’d told himself he just wanted to confirm she was real, that she wasn’t a trick of exhaustion or memory.
But sitting across from her now, he felt something stir that had been dormant for years.
She didn’t flatter him.
She didn’t fear him.
She challenged him.
It was infuriating.
It was intoxicating.
“You should stay away from men like me,” Adrian said.
Mila tilted her head. “You giving public service announcements now?”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
She stood.
“I don’t let strangers decide what I do.”
He rose as well.
They were close again.
Too close.
“If you keep walking into my world,” Adrian said quietly, “you’re going to get hurt.”
Mila looked up at him, eyes blazing.
“And if you keep pretending you don’t feel anything, you already are.”
His breath caught.
For a split second, he almost reached for her.
Almost.
Then Jasmine called Mila’s name from across the bar.
Reality rushed back in.
Mila stepped away.
“Drink your whiskey,” she said. “Try not to scare the regulars.”
She walked off without looking back.
Adrian stood there, unmoving.
Marco approached cautiously. “Boss?”
Adrian exhaled slowly.
“She’s trouble,” Marco said.
Adrian didn’t disagree.
But as he watched Mila move through the crowd with stubborn grace, he knew something had already changed.
Fire had met ice.
And neither had survived untouched.
- Writer
