Anna didn’t pull her wrist away. Not because Adrian held her tightly—his grip was controlled, almost gentle—but because something in his eyes had shifted. It was no longer just anger; it was calculation. Danger.
The focus of a predator when it finally spots the true shape of its prey.
“You’re not stealing anything from me,” Adrian said quietly.
Anna swallowed hard.
“That wasn’t my plan.”
His eyebrow lifted skeptically.
“No?”
“No,” she forced herself to say, voice steady. “I planned to survive.”
Adrian studied her face carefully, as if weighing the truth of her words.
Then he released her wrist. The sudden absence of his touch stung unexpectedly.
Anna rubbed her arm and took a step back.
“You don’t understand,” she said urgently. “Julian doesn’t bluff. If he releases that video—”
