Her sweetest nightmare

The night she met him, she thought she was being saved. She was wrong. Rain poured over the city, turning the streets into mirrors beneath the pale glow of streetlights. She ran through the darkness with one hand pressed against her chest, her heels abandoned somewhere behind her. She didn't know where she was going. She only knew she had to get away. From them. From the house. From the secrets she'd accidentally discovered. Her lungs burned as she stumbled down the empty street. Her dress was soaked against her skin, her hair clinging to her face. Every sound behind her made her heart hammer harder. Footsteps. They were getting closer. “Don't let her get away!” Her blood turned cold. She ran faster. A sharp pain shot through her ankle, but she refused to stop. She had never been a runner. She had never been brave. But tonight, fear had given her strength. She glanced over her shoulder. Three dark figures were chasing her. “Stop!” She screamed and turned back. That was when she saw the black car. It stood beneath a streetlight, its windows tinted so dark that she couldn't see inside. The driver's door opened. A man stepped out. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Dressed entirely in black. He didn't look frightened by the storm or the three men running toward him. He simply stood there, watching her approach with an expression she couldn't read. She didn't know who he was. She didn't care. She ran straight toward him. “Please,” she gasped. “Help me.” The man looked at her from head to toe. His eyes were dark and cold. For one terrifying second, she wondered if she had made a terrible mistake. Then he removed his black coat and placed it over her shoulders. “Get in.” His voice was deep. Commanding. She stared at him. “Please.” His eyes flickered toward the men behind her. Then back to her. “I said, get in.” She climbed into the car without another question. The door slammed shut. Seconds later, the man got inside. The car pulled away. She pressed herself against the leather seat, breathing heavily. “They're going to kill me,” she whispered. The man didn't answer. She looked at him. He was sitting beside her, perfectly calm, one hand resting on his thigh while the other held the steering wheel. “You saved me.” “No.” She frowned. He glanced at her through the rearview mirror. “I haven't saved you.” A shiver ran through her. “What do you mean?” His lips curved into the faintest smile. “You'll understand soon enough.” She didn't like the sound of that. Outside, the city disappeared behind the rain. She looked down at the coat around her shoulders. It smelled faintly of expensive cologne. “Who are you?” Silence. She tried again. “What's your name?” This time, he looked directly at her. “Adrian.” Just one word. No surname. She swallowed. “Adrian what?” “Just Adrian.” Something about him made her uneasy. He was too calm. Too controlled. And somehow, she felt as though he'd known she would be standing on that street tonight. She turned toward the window. “Where are you taking me?” “My house.” Her head snapped toward him. “No.” His eyebrow lifted. “You asked me to save you.” “I didn't ask you to take me to your house.” “Then where should I take you?” She opened her mouth. Nothing came out. She couldn't go home. Home was exactly where the people chasing her had come from. She lowered her eyes. “I don't know.” “Exactly.” The car continued through the rain. After several minutes, she realized they were leaving the city. She gripped the edge of the seat. “Where are we going?” Adrian didn't answer. “Adrian.” Still nothing. “Stop the car.” He ignored her. “Stop the car!” His hands tightened around the steering wheel. “You can either sit quietly,” he said, “or I can make you.” Her heart skipped. She stared at him. There was something frightening about the calmness in his voice. “What kind of man are you?” He smiled. “The kind you should never trust.” Her stomach twisted. Yet somehow, those words frightened her less than the men she'd escaped from. Maybe because she was already too desperate to care. She closed her eyes. Just for a moment. She needed to breathe. She needed to think. But exhaustion took over. When she opened her eyes again, the car had stopped. She looked outside. A huge iron gate stood before them. Beyond it was a mansion. Massive. Beautiful. And terrifying. The gates opened slowly. The car drove through. She stared at the enormous house as they approached. “Where am I?” “My home.” She turned to him. “You live here alone?” “No.” Her heart sank. “Who else lives here?” Adrian stopped the car. Then he looked at her. “Nobody.” She frowned. “You just said—” “I live alone.” He stepped out of the car. She remained inside. He opened her door. “Come.” She hesitated. “I'm not going anywhere with you.” His expression hardened. “You can stay outside in the rain if you'd prefer.” She looked at the storm. Then at the mansion. She hated that he was right. Slowly, she stepped out. The moment she entered the house, she felt something strange. It was beautiful. But cold. Almost lifeless. There were expensive paintings on the walls, crystal chandeliers above her head, and polished marble floors beneath her bare feet. Everything screamed wealth. Power. Danger. Adrian walked ahead of her. “Wait here.” “Where are you going?” He stopped. Without turning around, he said, “To make a phone call.” “About me?” “Yes.” Her stomach tightened. “Who are you calling?” He finally turned. “The people looking for you.” Her face went pale. “What?” A slow smile appeared on his lips. “I told you.” He stepped closer. “I haven't saved you.” She backed away. “Then why did you bring me here?” His eyes darkened. “Because, sweetheart…” He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I wanted them to think you were dead.” She stared at him in disbelief. Before she could respond, Adrian walked away. And for the first time that night, she realized something. The men chasing her weren't the only danger. She had just walked willingly into the home of a man who might be far more dangerous than all of them. And she had no idea why he wanted her alive.