wanted by the CEO

Chapter 4-History Repeats

Naomi had always believed she was in control of her life. Until Adrian Cole waltzed back into it, demanding her cooperation for a deal that smelled of corporate ambition and personal risk. Now, as she rode in the sleek black car toward another staged appearance, she felt a thrill she couldn’t quite suppress—and irritation that made her chest tighten.

Adrian sat beside her, calm, confident, impossibly put-together. He didn’t need to speak to command attention. His golden eyes, sharp and assessing, followed her every move. Naomi felt the old pull, that familiar tingle of attraction mixed with frustration, and she gripped her clutch tightly to anchor herself.

One month, she reminded herself. Nothing more.

Adrian, on the other hand, allowed his mind to wander freely, as it always did when Naomi was near. She had changed—slightly older, stronger, more confident—but her laugh still held that teasing edge, her hands still moved with the subtle grace that had captivated him in college. And yet, the memories of past failures and missed chances haunted him now, pulling him toward her with a force he hadn’t anticipated.

“You’re quiet,” he said, breaking the car’s low hum of tires against asphalt. His voice was low, almost teasing, brushing the edge of her awareness.

“I’m thinking,” Naomi said, keeping her eyes on the passing city lights. “About all the ways this could go wrong.”

“Mostly about yourself, I imagine,” Adrian murmured, his gaze flicking toward her profile. “You always overthink.”

She gave him a flat look but didn’t deny it. He was right; she always had, especially when it came to him. A half-smile tugged at her lips, and Adrian caught it. He leaned just slightly closer, close enough that the warmth of him brushed against her arm, and she stiffened, though her pulse betrayed her.

“Remember college?” he asked, voice softer now, reflective. “When you stayed up all night in the library because of that impossible final project?”

Naomi snorted softly, despite herself. “You mean when you ‘helped’ by giving me hints I pretended not to notice?”

Adrian chuckled. “I still remember the way you glared at me when I did.” He met her eyes, the tension thickening in the confined space of the car. “And yet, you still leaned just a little closer than necessary when we worked together.”

Her heart skipped. She had hoped he wouldn’t notice—or wouldn’t remember. But Adrian remembered everything. Always had. Always would. The small, intimate details, the almost-accidental touches, the moments that had left her dizzy and frustrated, they were all lodged in his mind as firmly as hers.

“I wasn’t leaning closer,” she said quickly, cheeks warming. “I… I was just… studying your method.”

“Of course,” he said smoothly, though the faint smirk tugging at his lips betrayed him. “Method, yes. That’s exactly what I thought.”

The rest of the ride passed in a tense silence, each lost in their own memories and unspoken thoughts. When the car pulled up to the venue, a grand hotel lobby alive with journalists and staff preparing for the next round of staged appearances, Naomi felt a flutter of nerves and anticipation.

Inside, they moved through the crowd with practiced ease, their hands brushing occasionally, deliberately, sending sparks through both of them each time. Adrian’s touch was confident, commanding, and Naomi found herself leaning into the warmth despite her protests to herself.

The evening was a blur of rehearsed smiles, whispered prompts, and subtle touches designed to create the illusion of intimacy. But the more they acted, the more real the tension became. Every glance, every laugh, every brush of fingers carried layers of history, desire, and the silent question of what might have been.

Later, as they stood alone for a moment in a quiet corner, Adrian caught Naomi’s gaze and held it. “You’ve changed,” he said softly. “More… guarded, but stronger. I like it.”

She felt her pulse spike and her chest tighten. “You’ve changed too,” she said. “Still… infuriatingly confident.”

He smiled, leaning just enough closer that she could feel the heat radiating from him. “Some things never change,” he murmured, the words hanging between them, heavy and charged.

Naomi forced herself to step back, pretending composure, though the electricity in the air made her shiver. One month. She repeated it silently like a mantra, clinging to it as a lifeline. One month of pretending, of carefully drawn boundaries, of surviving Adrian Cole.

And yet, as she walked away to prepare for the next staged appearance, she knew the past wasn’t staying buried. The tension between them, the history, and the heat of their near-touches promised that the coming weeks would be more dangerous—and far more intoxicating—than she had ever imagined.