Cold cash

Chapter Seven

The car couldn't move fast enough.

Adrian sat beside me now, not across from me. His knee pressed against mine. His hand hadn't let go since the gala. I could feel him vibrating—anger or fear or something in between, I couldn't tell.

"The note," he said. "Give it to me."

"It's in my clutch."

"Give it to me, Ivy."

I pulled it out. The cream-colored paper. The looping letters. Tick tock. He read it once, twice, then folded it into his pocket without a word.

"He's trying to scare you," Adrian said.

"It's working."

"No. He's trying to scare me. You're just the tool."

I turned to face him. The city lights slid across his profile—sharp jaw, darker shadow, a muscle ticking in his temple.

"Then stop treating me like one," I said.

"What does that mean?"

"It means tell me the truth. All of it. What did you do to Liam? Why does he hate you? And why am I really here?"

The car hit a pothole. Adrian's knee pressed harder against mine. He didn't move it.

"My father," he said finally. "He died five years ago. Heart attack. Left behind a company, a fortune, and a mess I didn't know about."

"What kind of mess?"

"Liam had been stealing for years. Small amounts at first. Then larger. My father knew. He covered it up. Protected him. Because family."

Adrian's voice was flat. Reciting facts. Like he'd told this story before, to lawyers, to board members, to himself in the mirror.

"When I took over, I found the paper trail. I gave Liam a choice. Confess publicly and repay what he stole, or I'd press charges."

"He didn't confess."

"He doubled down. Started telling people I was the thief. That I'd forged documents to frame him." Adrian laughed, bitter and short. "Half the board believed him. Still does."

"So you're firing him."

"The termination notice you delivered. Yes. That was the final step. But Liam won't go quietly. He's already planning something. I don't know what. But the notes—the appearances—he's trying to destabilize me."

"And I'm supposed to... what? Make you look stable?"

Adrian turned to face me. His eyes were dark. Not cold. Just... tired.

"You make me look human, Ivy. No one has done that in a very long time."

---

The car stopped.

Not at the penthouse. Somewhere else. Somewhere dark.

"We're not home," I said.

"No."

"Where are we?"

Adrian opened the door. Cold air rushed in. He stepped out and offered me his hand—again, always offering, always waiting.

"Trust me," he said.

I shouldn't have. Every instinct said no. But I took his hand anyway.

---

We were at the river.

The Hudson. Dark water, darker sky, the city glittering behind us like a dream. Adrian led me to a bench. Old iron. Cold to the touch.

"I come here when I can't breathe," he said.

"You? Can't breathe?"

"Believe it or not, I'm human."

I sat down. The red dress pooled around me, ridiculous against the rusted bench. Adrian sat beside me. Close. Not touching.

"Why here?" I asked.

"Because Liam doesn't know about this place. No one does."

We sat in silence. The water lapped against the shore. Somewhere across the river, a horn sounded, low and mournful.

"The kiss," Adrian said.

"What kiss?"

"The one we didn't do. At the gala. Everyone expected it. The cameras waited for it. But I couldn't."

"Why not?"

He turned to look at me. The city lights reflected in his eyes. Gold and silver and something softer underneath.

"Because I didn't want it to be pretend."

My heart stopped. Then started again, faster.

"Adrian—"

"Don't." He shook his head. "Don't say anything. Just... let me have this one thing that's real."

He leaned in.

Slow. So slow I could have pulled away. Could have stopped him. Could have reminded him about the contract, about the rules, about the six weeks and the exit strategy.

I didn't.

His lips brushed mine. Soft. Questioning. Like he was asking permission instead of taking it.

I kissed him back.

No cameras. No crowd. No contract.

Just the river, the city, and a man who wasn't supposed to feel anything at all.

---

When we pulled apart, his forehead rested against mine.

"Ivy."

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"I'm going to fall in love with you. And I'm going to ruin everything."

I closed my eyes.

And for the first time since the elevator doors closed, I didn't know if that was a threat or a promise.