His Forbidden Touch

Chapter 17 : The Secret Meeting

The city lights stretched endlessly beyond the office windows, a sea of gold against the night sky. Elena stood by her desk, staring blankly at the glowing skyline, her thoughts a tangled mess.

She couldn’t get Veronica’s words out of her head. Everything you touch, you ruin.

The venom in her tone, the way her eyes lingered on Elena it wasn’t just a warning. It was a threat.

“Elena.”

She startled at the sound of his voice. Adrian leaned against the doorway of her office, his tie loosened, his jacket discarded. His gaze was locked on her, intense as ever, but softer at the edges, as though he knew the storm inside her.

“You’re still here,” she said quietly.

“I was waiting for you.” He stepped closer, each stride measured, deliberate. “We need to talk.”

Her pulse quickened. “About what happened earlier?”

“Yes. About Veronica. About… us.”

The last word hung heavy in the air. Elena’s chest tightened.

“Adrian,” she whispered, “people saw us. She saw us. This—whatever this is—it’s dangerous.”

His jaw clenched, but instead of arguing, he reached out, his hand brushing against hers. “I don’t care who saw. Do you?”

Elena’s breath hitched. She wanted to say yes, to remind him of Daniel, of her career, of everything at risk—but the way his thumb traced her skin silenced her protests.

“I shouldn’t,” she murmured. “I shouldn’t be here with you.”

Adrian’s eyes darkened, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “And yet you are.”

The tension coiled tighter, suffocating and intoxicating. He leaned closer, his breath warm against her cheek, his presence overwhelming.

“Come with me,” he said, low and commanding.

“Where?” Her voice trembled.

“Somewhere private.”

Her heart stuttered. Every nerve screamed at her to refuse, but the gravity of him—the pull she couldn’t fight—was stronger.

Minutes later, they slipped into his black car, the tinted windows shielding them from curious eyes. The city blurred past in streaks of neon and shadow, but Elena barely noticed. Her body was alive, every sense heightened by the silence between them, a silence thick with unspoken desire.

The car stopped in front of a sleek, discreet building. Adrian led her inside, up the elevator, and into a penthouse that overlooked the entire city.

The moment the door clicked shut behind them, Elena’s composure began to crack.

“This is wrong,” she whispered, her hands trembling at her sides.

Adrian stepped closer, his gaze never leaving hers. “Wrong,” he said softly, tilting her chin up with a finger. “Or inevitable?”

Her breath caught. He was too close now, the heat of him wrapping around her, the fire in his eyes consuming every rational thought.

“Elena,” he murmured, his lips brushing just shy of hers, “tell me to stop, and I will.”

She should have said it. She should have pulled away.

But instead, her body leaned into his, betraying her.

And in the charged silence that followed, the truth became undeniable she didn’t want him to stop.