A Line Crossed
Isabella’s POV
Stepping into Adrian’s apartment felt like crossing an invisible threshold—one I wasn’t sure I could come back from.
The space was sleek, modern, and minimalistic. Dark leather furniture, polished floors, and floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the city skyline. Everything about it screamed power and control—just like him.
Except, right now, Adrian Sinclair looked far from in control.
I hesitated near the entrance, suddenly unsure why I was even here. The man barely tolerated my presence in the office—what made me think this was a good idea?
He raked a hand through his already tousled hair, exhaling heavily before heading toward the kitchen. “You want something to drink?”
“No,” I said, folding my arms.
Adrian poured himself a glass of whiskey anyw
