His Forbidden Touch

Chapter 16 : Veronica Appears

The gala was in full swing. Crystal chandeliers glistened above the polished marble floor, champagne glasses clinked, and the orchestra filled the air with a new wave of music.

Elena still felt the ghost of Adrian’s hand at her back, the warmth of his grip lingering like a secret against her skin. Her body was still humming with the rhythm of their dance, her thoughts tangled between guilt and desire.

And then she saw her.

A tall, striking woman stepped into the ballroom, her presence instantly commanding attention. She was elegance incarnate, dressed in a blood-red gown that flowed like liquid silk around her figure. Every detail—her perfect smile, the confident tilt of her chin, the sharp glimmer in her eyes radiated power.

Whispers rippled through the crowd.

“Is that… Veronica Blackwell?”

“She hasn’t been seen with him in months.”

“She looks stunning.”

The name hit Elena like ice water. Veronica. Adrian’s ex-wife.

Before Elena could gather herself, Adrian’s entire body stiffened beside her. His jaw tightened, his expression shifting from calm control to something darker.

“Stay here,” he murmured, though his voice carried a tension she had never heard before.

But Veronica was already walking toward them, her heels striking the marble floor like a slow drumbeat. She stopped in front of Adrian, her eyes sweeping over him before flicking almost lazily to Elena.

“Well,” Veronica purred, her voice smooth as silk but edged with steel. “I didn’t expect to see you here, Adrian. And certainly not… with company.”

Elena flushed, caught in the sharp weight of Veronica’s gaze. The woman’s eyes were beautiful, yes—but cold. Calculating. She felt as though Veronica had already undressed her soul, finding every weakness without a word.

“Veronica,” Adrian said curtly, his voice clipped. “This isn’t the place.”

“On the contrary,” Veronica countered, her lips curving into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “It’s exactly the place. Investors love a bit of gossip. Don’t they?”

Elena’s stomach twisted. She wanted to step back, to fade into the shadows, but Adrian’s hand found hers—subtle, protective, and unmistakably possessive.

The gesture didn’t escape Veronica. Her smirk deepened.

“My, my. Adrian Blackwell holding his secretary’s hand in public?” She tilted her head, her voice dripping with mock sweetness. “How bold of you. Or is it just… desperate?”

Elena’s cheeks burned. She tried to pull her hand away, but Adrian didn’t let go. His grip only tightened.

“Careful, Veronica,” Adrian warned, his voice low, dangerous. “You don’t want to start something you can’t finish.”

For a split second, something flickered in Veronica’s eyes jealousy, rage, or perhaps both but it vanished beneath her flawless facade.

She leaned closer, her perfume intoxicating, her whisper sharp enough for both of them to hear.

“Enjoy her while you can, Adrian. But you know as well as I do… everything you touch, you ruin.”

With that, she turned gracefully and walked away, her crimson gown trailing behind her like a flame, leaving only silence and tension in her wake.

Elena’s pulse pounded in her ears. She felt exposed, targeted, marked.

Adrian still held her hand, his jaw set tight, his eyes burning with something she couldn’t quite read—anger, frustration… or the fear of losing control.

“Elena,” he said finally, his voice low, his thumb brushing against her skin as if to reassure her. “Ignore her.”

But Elena knew it wouldn’t be that simple.

Not with Veronica Blackwell back in the picture.