His Obsession

Chapter 11: Not Who He Thinks She Is

The question hung in the hospital room like smoke, refusing to clear.

Amelia felt three pairs of eyes on her…Adrian's, searching and uncertain; Ethan's, wary in a way she hadn't seen from him before; Victoria's, exhausted but sharp, waiting.

"I don't know what she meant," Amelia said slowly, and it was true, even if it didn't feel like enough. "I have things I've never told anyone. Everyone does. But I don't know what any of that has to do with your father, or Victoria, or any of this."

"That's not an answer," Adrian said quietly.

"It's the only one I have right now." Amelia met his eyes, steady despite the tremor in her hands. "Adrian, I found out an hour ago that you hired me because of a letter your dying father wrote about protecting me. I don't know what he knew. I don't know what I'm supposed to know. I am not hiding some grand secret that explains all of this…I'm as lost as you are."

It wasn't the whole truth. There was one thing, buried deep, that she'd never told anyone…not Sophie, not her parents, a small private wound from years ago that had nothing to do with Blackwood Enterprises as far as she'd ever known.

But saying it here, now, in a hospital room with a woman who'd just been attacked and a man who barely trusted his own oldest friend…it felt like handing a weapon to someone she couldn't yet be sure wouldn't use it against her.

She wasn't ready. Not yet.

Victoria's eyes stayed on her a moment longer, assessing, before something in her expression eased slightly. "For what it's worth," she said, voice still hoarse, "I believe you. The woman who attacked me wanted us to distrust you. That's exactly the kind of thing someone says when they want to fracture a group from the inside."

"That doesn't mean it isn't true," Ethan said carefully, and when Amelia looked at him, his expression was apologetic but firm. "I'm not accusing you of anything, Amelia. I like you. But someone out there clearly thinks there's something to find, or they wouldn't be saying it."

"Then help me find it," Amelia said, surprising herself with how steady her voice came out. "If there's something buried in my life that connects to all of this, I want to know what it is as much as anyone in this room. I'm not the enemy here."

Adrian studied her for a long moment, something working behind his eyes…doubt, maybe, warring with the desperate need to believe her.

"No," he said finally, quietly. "I don't think you are."

He didn't sound entirely certain. But it was enough, for now, for the tightness in Amelia's chest to loosen slightly.

Victoria was discharged two days later, moved under heavy security to a private wing of Adrian's penthouse rather than her own flat. Amelia visited that evening, drawn by guilt she couldn't quite name, and found Victoria curled on a window seat overlooking the city, still bruised, still fragile, but sharper-eyed than she'd been in the hospital.

"You didn't have to come," Victoria said, though she moved over to make room.

"I wanted to." Amelia sat carefully beside her. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I got hit by a very personal, very specific kind of truck." Victoria's mouth twitched, a shadow of her usual dry humor. "Physically, I'll heal. The rest of it…" She gestured vaguely, encompassing everything. "That's harder."

"Can I ask you something?"

Victoria glanced at her. "You want to know why she came after me. Why any of this connects to you."

"Yes."

Victoria was quiet for a long moment, fingers tracing the edge of the window seat. "I was fourteen when my father started acting strange. Secretive. Locking his study more than usual, taking calls he'd never take at home. I didn't understand it then. I just knew something had changed." She looked at Amelia, something searching in her gaze. "Two years later, he was dead, and my brother inherited a company and a mountain of secrets he's spent every year since trying to carry alone."

"You think whatever your father discovered is what got him killed."

"I know it is. I've known it for years, even if Adrian's only just started believing it too." Victoria's jaw tightened. "What I don't know is why you're the missing piece. But Amelia…I've watched my brother build walls around himself for four years. I've never once seen anyone get past them the way you have. That has to mean something."

Amelia's throat tightened unexpectedly. "I don't know what it means."

"Neither do I." Victoria offered a small, tired smile. "But I'd like to find out. Together, if you're willing."

Amelia left the penthouse a little after nine, mind still turning over everything Victoria had said, and nearly walked straight past Adrian standing in the hallway outside the lift, waiting for her.

"You didn't have to wait," she said.

"I wanted to make sure you got home safely." He fell into step beside her toward the lift, hands in his pockets, some of his usual composure back in place, though his eyes still carried the exhaustion of the last two days. "Amelia, about what I asked in the hospital…"

"You don't have to apologize."

"I wasn't going to apologize." The lift doors opened, and he followed her in, the small space suddenly feeling smaller with him standing so close. "I was going to say that I trust you. Fully. Whatever secret you're carrying, whatever it is, I don't believe it makes you dangerous. I should have said that instead of asking you to explain yourself in front of an audience."

Amelia looked up at him, surprised by the rawness of it. "Why do you trust me? You barely know me."

"I've known you three weeks." A faint, almost helpless smile touched his mouth. "It feels like longer. I don't have a good explanation for that. I just know that every instinct I've spent four years training myself to trust…caution, distance, control…none of it applies where you're concerned. It hasn't since the first week."

The lift doors closed, sealing them into quiet, private space, the city lights sliding past the glass wall beside them as they descended.

"That's rule ten," Amelia said softly. "Never get too close to me."

"I know." Adrian's eyes held hers, dark and unguarded in a way she'd rarely seen from him. "I wrote that rule for myself as much as anyone else, Amelia. I've broken it completely. I don't know how to fix that, and lately, I'm not sure I want to."

The air between them felt charged, too warm, too close. Amelia's heart pounded as he took a small step nearer, close enough now that she could see the flecks of gold in his dark eyes, close enough to feel the warmth radiating off him.

"Adrian…"

"I know I said I wouldn't." His voice had dropped low, rough at the edges. "I know every reason I gave you for that rule still stands. Your safety. My own control. All of it." His hand rose, slow and hesitant, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear with a gentleness that didn't match anything she'd seen from him before. "But I don't think I can keep pretending I don't want to break it."

The lift chimed softly, doors beginning to slide open on the ground floor.

Neither of them moved.

"If you want me to stop," Adrian said quietly, "tell me now."

Amelia's breath caught, every rational thought she owned screaming caution, danger, secrets still unspoken between them…and none of it strong enough to make her step back.

"I don't want you to stop," she whispered.

His hand slid to her jaw, tilting her face up to his, and for one suspended moment, London's skyline glittering behind them through the glass, it felt like the entire tangled mess of the last three weeks had narrowed down to just this single breath of space between them.

Then his phone rang, shattering the moment entirely.

Adrian pulled back with a sharp exhale, some private curse under his breath, glancing at the screen. Whatever color remained in his face drained away as he read the caller ID.

"Who is it?" Amelia asked, breathless, disoriented by how fast the world had come crashing back.

"Mrs. Grey," Adrian said slowly. "She never calls this late."

He answered, and Amelia watched his expression shift from confusion to alarm within seconds.

"Slow down," he said into the phone. "What do you mean the files are gone?"

Amelia's stomach dropped.

"What files?" she asked.

Adrian met her eyes, and the desire from moments ago had been replaced entirely by something colder, sharper.

"Someone broke into the archive room tonight," he said. "Every document related to my father's death…the letter, the investigation files, everything…it's all gone.”