Chapter Seven: A Dangerous Proposition
1226 Words
A Dangerous Proposition
Isabella
The lingering unease from the parking garage refused to fade, following me home like a shadow. Even as I locked my apartment door behind me, the sensation clung to my skin.
I wasn’t the type to spook easily, but something felt… off.
I shook my head, dismissing the paranoia. It was probably exhaustion playing tricks on me. Between Adrian’s relentless scrutiny and the way my past still nipped at my heels, my nerves were stretched thin.
Kicking off my heels, I tossed my blazer onto the couch and made my way to the kitchen. A glass of wine would help me unwind, maybe even push Adrian Sinclair out of my thoughts—if only for a little while.
I poured a generous amount of red wine into a glass and leaned against the counter, staring out the window. The city lights blinked back at me, a quiet reminder that the world outside never truly slept.
Neither did my mind.
Adrian’s words played in my head again.
"Everything about you is my business now."
Arrogant bastard.
But there had been something unsettling in the way he said it—like he wasn’t just making a statement, but a promise.
And that was what truly worried me.
I needed a distraction.
Reaching for my phone, I dialed the one person who could snap me out of my spiraling thoughts.
"Well, well, look who finally remembered I exist." Mia's teasing voice filled my ears after the second ring.
I rolled my eyes. "You’re acting like I disappeared for months. It’s been a day."
"A day too long," she shot back. "So? How was the first day with Mr. Sinfully Rich and Infuriating?"
I let out a dry laugh. "Even worse than expected. He’s a control freak with an ego the size of Manhattan."
"Sounds about right," Mia mused. "Give me details. Did he glare at you with those intimidating gray eyes? Did he bark orders like some ruthless CEO stereotype?"
I sighed, rubbing my temple. "Oh, he did more than that. He decided I’m his new project. He was prying into my past job, acting like he has the right to know everything about me."
Mia paused. "Did he find out?"
"No, but he’s persistent. And I hate that he thinks he can control me just because he’s my boss."
"He’s dangerous," Mia said quietly.
The shift in her tone made me frown. "Mia?"
A muffled noise echoed in the background, followed by the faintest sound of a man’s voice.
I straightened. "Who was that?"
Mia hesitated for a fraction of a second. "No one. Just—TV in the background."
Liar.
My grip tightened around my phone. Mia was an awful liar, and she knew I could tell.
But before I could press further, she cleared her throat. "Look, let’s not get sidetracked. We’re talking about your insane boss, not my nonexistent personal life."
She was deflecting.
Normally, I’d call her out, but something in her voice told me she didn’t want to talk about it.
For now, I let it slide. "Fine. But this conversation isn’t over."
"Yeah, yeah," she muttered. "Now, back to Adrian. What exactly did he say?"
Before I could answer, my phone buzzed with an incoming call.
I glanced at the screen and groaned.
Adrian Sinclair.
Mia must have heard my reaction because she snickered. "Speak of the devil."
"I have to take this," I said reluctantly.
"Go," she teased. "Wouldn’t want to upset the big bad wolf."
I rolled my eyes and switched calls. "Sinclair, do you ever sleep?"
A low chuckle came through the line. "I could ask you the same thing, Isabella."
I gritted my teeth. "What do you want?"
"I need you at my penthouse. Now."
I nearly choked on my wine. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me." His voice was calm, composed, as if it were the most natural request in the world.
I straightened, gripping the glass tighter. "It’s the middle of the night, Adrian."
"And yet, I find myself needing your presence."
I let out a sharp breath, irritation flaring in my chest. "If this isn’t about work—"
"It is," he cut in smoothly. "Come now. Or don’t bother coming in tomorrow."
My jaw tightened. "You wouldn’t—"
"Try me."
Silence stretched between us.
The bastard was serious.
I swallowed down my frustration. "Fine. I’ll be there in twenty minutes."
"Good girl."
I hung up before I could say something that would get me fired.
Twenty minutes later, I found myself standing outside Adrian’s penthouse, wondering what the hell I was doing here. He texted me the address on my way.
The building was sleek, towering over the city with an air of exclusivity. The doorman had let me up without question, clearly expecting me.
As the elevator doors opened, I stepped into the dimly lit space. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a breathtaking view of the city skyline, but my attention was drawn to the man standing by the bar, a glass of whiskey in hand.
Adrian turned at the sound of my heels clicking against the marble floor. His shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, his sleeves rolled up, revealing strong forearms. The picture of controlled power.
"You’re late," he remarked.
I crossed my arms. "You didn’t give me much notice."
He smirked, but his eyes held something sharper. "Have a drink."
"I’d rather know why I’m here."
He studied me for a long moment before setting his glass down. "Sit."
I didn’t.
A flicker of amusement crossed his face, but he didn’t press the issue. Instead, he walked to the couch and sat, motioning for me to join him.
I reluctantly perched on the edge of the opposite chair, arms still crossed.
Adrian leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "I did some digging."
My pulse skipped. "And?"
"And I don’t like unanswered questions."
I held his gaze, refusing to flinch. "Then maybe you should learn to live with them."
His lips curved, but there was no real humor in his expression. "Why did you leave Westford & Co.?"
I exhaled, the familiar weight of the past pressing against my ribs. "I already told you. It wasn’t the right fit anymore."
Adrian hummed, unconvinced. "They fired you, didn’t they?"
My fingers curled against my arms. "I resigned."
"But not by choice."
I stiffened.
He was getting too close to the truth.
Adrian leaned back, watching me like a predator assessing its prey. "What happened, Isabella?"
I swallowed. "Drop it, Sinclair."
His expression didn’t change. "I don’t like loose ends. And you, Isabella, are one hell of a loose end."
I stood abruptly. "Then maybe you should have thought twice before hiring me."
Adrian remained seated, entirely unbothered. "I did think twice. And I still hired you."
I turned to leave, but his next words froze me in place.
"If someone forced you out, I can fix it."
I turned back slowly. "Excuse me?"
He stood, closing the distance between us. "I don’t take kindly to people who try to bury things that belong to me."
I let out a sharp laugh. "I don’t belong to you."
His gaze darkened. "Don’t you?"
Something in his tone sent a shiver down my spine.
This wasn’t just about control.
It was about ownership.
And that scared me more than anything else.
- Writer
