Running on Borrowed Time
1209 Words
The shrill buzz of Elena’s alarm tore her from sleep. She groaned, fumbling for her phone, blinking blearily at the glowing screen.
7:30 a.m.
Her heart lurched into her throat.
She had half an hour before she was supposed to be at Blackstone Enterprises. Half an hour, when it normally took her forty-five minutes just to get there.
“Oh no—no, no, no.”
She shot out of bed, nearly tripping on the blanket that tangled around her ankles. Her hair was a mess, her eyes still heavy with sleep, but there was no time. She yanked on the first blouse she grabbed, smoothed her skirt with frantic hands, and dragged a comb once through her dark waves. Makeup? Forget it. Breakfast? Impossible.
Five minutes later, she was out the door, heart hammering against her ribs.
The subway station was blocks away. She wouldn’t make it. Not today. Not when Adrian Blackstone’s disapproval already weighed on her from their last encounters. He had warned her. He had looked at her with that piercing gaze that stripped her bare. If she walked in late, she didn’t even want to imagine what would happen.
So when she spotted a cab idling at the corner, she didn’t think twice. She waved frantically, jumping in as it rolled to a stop.
“Downtown—Blackstone Tower,” she gasped. “Fast, please!”
The driver nodded, pulling into traffic.
Elena leaned back, trying to calm her racing pulse. The meter ticked upward with every passing block, each number slicing into her conscience like a blade. This is too much. Too expensive. You can’t keep doing this. But the fear of Adrian’s dark eyes, the memory of his voice whispering against her ear in that elevator, was stronger than her guilt.
Ten minutes later, the cab lurched. Smoke hissed from beneath the hood.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she whispered, panic surging.
“Sorry, lady,” the driver said, pulling to the curb. “Engine’s done. You’ll have to walk.”
She checked her phone. Ten minutes left until eight o’clock.
Her stomach dropped.
Without another word, she shoved cash into the driver’s hand and bolted onto the sidewalk. Her heels pounded against the pavement as she ran, weaving through pedestrians, ignoring the burn in her lungs.
I can’t be late. I can’t.
She was so focused on the glowing tower in the distance that she didn’t notice the sleek black car turning the corner.
The screech of brakes and the blare of a horn jolted her. She froze, inches from the car’s hood, chest heaving.
The driver’s door opened, and her blood turned to ice.
Adrian Blackstone stepped out, tall and imposing in a charcoal suit that gleamed under the morning sun. His expression was thunderous.
“Get in,” he ordered, his voice a low command that brooked no refusal.
Elena’s throat tightened. “I—I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t see—”
“I hate apologies,” he cut her off sharply. His eyes swept over her, noting the flush of her cheeks, the sweat on her brow, the desperation in her stance. “They’re useless. Fix the problem instead.”
She hesitated only a moment before obeying, slipping into the cool leather interior of his car. Her pulse pounded so loudly she could hardly hear the soft click of the door closing behind him as he slid in beside her.
The car began to move again, the driver silent, the city blurring past.
Elena sat rigid, clutching her bag as if it could anchor her.
Adrian’s gaze, however, was not on the road. It was on her. Steady. Unrelenting.
“You were running,” he said at last. “On the street. Carelessly.”
Her lips parted. “I—I had to. The cab broke down and—”
“You could have been hit.” His voice sharpened, steel wrapped in velvet. “You nearly were.”
Her injured hand twitched in her lap.
Adrian noticed. Slowly, deliberately, he reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small tube of cream.
Elena’s eyes widened.
“You bought that…?” she whispered.
“Yesterday.” He uncapped it, his movements precise, controlled. “For your hand. Hold it out.”
Her breath caught. “It’s fine. You don’t need to—”
“I said,” he interrupted, his tone brooking no disobedience, “hold it out.”
Her body betrayed her. Trembling, she extended her hand.
Adrian’s large fingers closed around her wrist, firm and unyielding. He tugged her closer, too close, until her balance tipped and she stumbled against his chest. A startled gasp escaped her lips, her eyes flying up to meet his.
His face was inches away, the faintest shadow of stubble lining his sharp jaw. His scent—dark, expensive, intoxicating—flooded her senses.
“You’re late,” he murmured, squeezing gently as he spread the cream over her bruised skin. “And reckless. I don’t tolerate either.”
She opened her mouth to apologize again, but his gaze silenced her.
“Don’t say it,” he warned. “I don’t want your apologies. I want you to learn. To be on time. To take care of yourself.”
The cream was cool against her skin, but his touch burned.
“And if you don’t…” His thumb brushed the edge of her bruise, making her flinch. His lips tilted in the faintest shadow of a smile, one that chilled her even as heat surged through her veins. “…then I’ll have no choice but to correct you. In ways you may not expect.”
Her breath hitched.
His eyes darkened, lingering on hers as if daring her to understand. “Consider this your only warning, Miss Rivera. Don’t be late. Don’t get injured. Or the consequences…” He leaned closer, his voice a whisper that curled against her skin. “…won’t be pleasant for you. Though I might not mind them.”
Elena froze, every muscle taut, unable to pull away even if she wanted to.
Then, just as abruptly as he had pulled her close, he released her hand, recapped the cream, and slipped it back into his pocket.
The car rolled to a stop in front of Blackstone Tower. Adrian stepped out first, his expression unreadable, his composure flawless. He glanced back at her, his eyes briefly softening before hardening again.
“HR will arrange a car to pick you up every morning from now on,” he said. “You’ve proven you can’t be trusted to manage it alone.”
She swallowed, cheeks hot with humiliation and something else she couldn’t name.
“And for the evenings…” His gaze lingered on her, unreadable but heavy with promise. “I’ll decide how you get home myself.”
Without waiting for her response, he strode inside, his long steps commanding, leaving Elena standing on the curb with her heart racing and her hand still tingling from his touch.
She drew in a shaky breath, her mind a whirl of fear, confusion, and the strange flutter that wouldn’t leave her chest.
Adrian Blackstone was dangerous.
And she was already far too entangled.
- Writer
