Elena’s POV
The cursor blinked back at me, merciless in its patience. My laptop sat perched on Adrian’s heavy oak desk, surrounded by neat stacks of his medical journals and scattered handwritten notes that only he could decipher. It was after midnight. The lights were low, the fireplace in the study reduced to sleepy embers. A half-empty bottle of Pinot rested on the table between us.
Adrian lounged across from me in one of those leather chairs that looked straight out of an exclusive club. Sleeves rolled up, reading glasses balanced on the bridge of his nose. God, the first time I saw him with those on, I nearly combusted. Now it was just quietly devastating. A reminder that this brilliant, elegant man chose to share his evenings, and everything else, with me.
My stomach flipped. And
