ADRIAN
I shouldn’t have followed her.
I shouldn’t have watched her walk into that restaurant in a dress that made every man turn his head.
I shouldn’t have waited outside long enough to see him walk out alone.
But I did.
And now I was standing outside her bedroom door, listening to the sound of her breath on the other side — uneven, shaky, guilty.
She lied to me.
She lied to my face.
I opened the door.
She spun around, half‑dressed, eyes wide, chest rising and falling like she’d been running. The city lights painted her in gold and shadow, and for a moment, I forgot how to breathe.
Her breath hitched.
I stepped closer.
She backed up until her legs hit the edge of the bed.
“Adrian—”
She pushed at my chest, but it was weak, unfocused. I caught her wrist — gently, but firmly en
