CHAPTER 10 – Taking Control
1132 Words
Lara didn’t want to check her phone when she woke up, but she did anyway.
No new messages.
For the first time in days, the absence of threats felt almost as unnerving as their presence. Whoever was watching her was quiet—too quiet.
She walked into the kitchen, still in borrowed sweatpants Adrian had given her the night before, and froze. He was already there, suit on, tie perfect, phone pressed to his ear.
“—no, I want names, addresses, everything. If they used Rick Carson’s credentials, I want to know who gave them access. Today.” He ended the call, eyes landing on her instantly.
“You’re up.”
“You’re already working.”
“I don’t sleep much,” he said simply. “Breakfast is there.”
She glanced at the plate waiting on the counter—toast, eggs, and coffee already poured. “You didn’t have to.”
“Monroe, after the last forty-eight hours, consider it mandatory.”
---
On the way to the firm, Adrian didn’t take his usual car service. Instead, a sleek black SUV was waiting, tinted windows, a driver she didn’t recognize.
“New driver?” she asked quietly as she slid in.
“Private security,” Adrian said. “Until this is over, you’re not taking subways or walking alone.”
Lara blinked. “Adrian, that’s… extreme.”
He looked at her, unblinking. “This situation stopped being normal when someone threatened you in an elevator. I’m not giving them another chance.”
His words settled like a weight in her chest. Part of her wanted to argue, but another part—deeper, quieter—was relieved.
---
At the firm, Adrian went straight to IT. Lara followed, staying back as he stood over Brian, the head of tech.
“You have something?” Adrian demanded.
Brian swallowed. “We traced the physical device accessing the VPN—it’s a laptop registered to Rick Carson’s brother.”
Adrian’s jaw tightened. “Where?”
“Queens. He works from home. But sir, there’s something else—someone else piggybacked on that connection. Whoever’s sending these messages is smart enough to route through multiple addresses, but they slipped once, and we have a location ping near the firm from last night.”
Adrian looked at Lara. “He was outside last night.”
Her stomach dropped. “He really was watching.”
Adrian turned back to Brian. “I want everything on my desk in thirty minutes. And call security—I want two guards posted on our floor.”
---
By midday, the stress finally caught up. Lara excused herself to the restroom, locking the stall door, hands braced on her knees as she tried to breathe. Everything hit at once: the humiliation of the fake slide, the elevator threat, the man watching from the street, the texts.
A knock startled her. “Monroe?” Adrian’s voice.
She groaned softly. “How do you even know I’m in here?”
“You were gone eight minutes.” His tone softened. “Open the door.”
She did, reluctantly. Adrian stood there, frown deep, his eyes scanning her face. “You’re shaking.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
She tried to step past him, but he caught her wrist gently. “Lara.”
For the first time, she noticed he used her first name—not “Monroe.”
“Stop carrying this alone,” he said quietly.
Something in her chest cracked. Before she could stop herself, she whispered, “I’m scared.”
Adrian didn’t hesitate. He pulled her into his arms, one hand firm on her back, the other at the back of her head. It wasn’t romantic, not exactly—but it was steady, grounding, real.
“You’re safe,” he said quietly against her hair. “I won’t let anyone touch you.”
She let herself stay there for a moment, eyes closed, feeling the solid weight of him, the heat of his presence, the calm he carried even when angry.
---
Later that afternoon, Adrian’s phone buzzed. He answered immediately, eyes narrowing. “We have him? … Good. Keep him there.”
He grabbed his jacket. “Come with me.”
They drove to a coffee shop near the firm, where security had detained a man with a baseball cap—the same one from the elevator footage.
When the man saw Adrian, his face paled. “I didn’t do anything!”
“You threatened my intern,” Adrian said flatly. “And you’ve been following her.”
The man shook his head quickly. “I was paid to deliver messages, that’s all!”
“By who?” Adrian demanded.
The man hesitated, then muttered, “I don’t know his name. He paid me cash. Told me to scare her, to make her quit. Said he’d text me what to say.”
Adrian’s eyes darkened. “Did he give you a number?”
The man nodded reluctantly and handed over a cheap burner phone.
---
That night, Adrian poured two glasses of wine, something she hadn’t seen him do before. He handed one to her and sat across the table.
“It’s not over,” he said simply. “Whoever hired that man is still out there. But now we have something to trace.”
Lara stared into her glass. “Someone wants me gone… bad enough to hire someone to scare me. Why? I’m just an intern.”
Adrian’s gaze softened. “You’re not just an intern. You’re good. You noticed details most associates missed. That makes you a threat to someone who doesn’t want you here.”
Her chest tightened. “So what do I do now?”
“You keep doing your job. And you let me handle the rest.”
She looked up at him then, at the way he said it—not like a request, but a promise.
---
Later, as she stood by the window, staring out at the skyline, Adrian came up behind her. “What are you thinking?”
“That I don’t belong here,” she admitted. “That maybe they’re right.”
He stepped closer, voice low. “They’re wrong.”
She turned, and for a moment, they were inches apart. The tension stretched—heavy, electric, unspoken.
But Adrian only lifted a hand, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face, fingers lingering just a second longer than necessary.
“Get some sleep, Lara,” he said softly. “Tomorrow, we finish this.”
---
As she lay in bed, Lara replayed that moment—the warmth of his hand, the certainty in his voice—and for the first time, she felt that maybe, just maybe, she could trust him completely.
- Writer
