Liana's Apartment – Night
The rain pelted against the window, a dull, steady rhythm that mirrored Liana's racing heartbeat.
She stared at Adrian, her breath catching in her throat as his fingers slowly tightened around her wrist. His grip wasn't painful—it was deliberate.
Possessive.
Her skin burned where his lips had grazed her knuckles moments ago. She should have pulled away. She should have run.
But she didn't.
She couldn't.
Her wide eyes remained locked with his. There was something dangerously mesmerizing about the way Adrian Knight looked at her—his gaze dark and consuming, as if he were memorizing every inch of her.
"Let me go," she whispered, though her voice came out weak, barely convincing.
A slow smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. He didn't release her. Instead, he took a step closer, closing the small gap between them. The warmth of his body pressed against hers, making her skin prickle.
"I already told you," he murmured softly, almost mockingly.
"You're not walking away from me this time."
Her throat tightened. She wanted to push him back, but she was rooted to the spot. She could feel the warmth of his breath against her skin—so close, too close.
"You have no right to be here," she forced out, her voice shaking slightly.
His eyes narrowed slightly, the smirk fading. For a fleeting second, something darker flashed in his gaze.
Then, without warning, his fingers released her wrist, and the sudden loss of contact made her stumble back slightly.
But before she could take another step, his hand came up and cupped her jaw, tilting her face up to meet his eyes.
Her lips parted slightly in surprise, but she froze.
His thumb grazed over her lower lip with a featherlight touch, his eyes darkening with something unreadable.
Her pulse quickened violently.
"You think you can push me away, Liana?" he murmured, his voice low and gravelly.
His lips were so close to hers now that she could feel the warmth of his breath fanning against her skin.
"You think running will save you?"
Her nails dug into her palms, trying to ground herself, but her knees weakened slightly.
She hated him.
She hated the way her body betrayed her.
"This time…" he whispered darkly, his voice rough and intimate,
"I'll make sure you can't run."
Her breath hitched.
The promise in his words—dangerous, possessive—made her stomach tighten painfully.
---
Flashback – Three Years Ago
Paris – Adrian's Penthouse
The faint scent of jasmine and rain lingered in the bedroom.
Liana sat on the edge of the bed, one of Adrian's white shirts draped loosely over her bare skin. The fabric was too large, slipping off one shoulder, baring the smooth curve of her collarbone.
She stared at her reflection in the mirror across the room, her eyes still drowsy from sleep.
Her hair was slightly tousled, her lips still swollen from his kisses.
A small, tired smile tugged at her lips as she leaned back into the pillows.
The sheets still smelled like him—dark wood, spice, and something uniquely Adrian.
Her fingers absentmindedly traced the faint red marks on her skin—marks he had left during the night.
The way he had looked at her then—with such fierce possession—sent a shiver down her spine.
The bedroom door creaked softly, and she glanced over her shoulder.
Adrian stood there, shirtless, his sweatpants slung low on his hips. His hair was still damp from the shower, droplets of water trailing down his collarbone.
When he saw her lying there, wearing only his shirt, his eyes darkened instantly.
"You're still here," he murmured, his voice low and raspy.
She smirked softly, her eyes playful.
"You thought I'd leave without saying goodbye?"
He didn't answer. Instead, he crossed the room in three slow steps and lowered himself onto the bed beside her.
His fingers gently pushed the shirt off her bare shoulder, his lips following the path with slow, deliberate kisses.
"You belong here," he had whispered against her skin, his voice rough with undeniable possession.
"With me."
Her heart had skipped a beat at the rawness in his tone.
Back then, she hadn't known how deep Adrian's obsession ran.
She hadn't known how dangerous it was to let him own her heart so completely.
---
Present – Liana's Apartment
Her chest tightened at the memory.
Her eyes snapped back to Adrian's face, his grip still firm on her jaw.
He was staring at her intently, as if he could see the memory flashing through her eyes.
His thumb slowly traced her bottom lip, his eyes dropping to her mouth.
"You remember, don't you?" he whispered, his voice barely above a breath.
Her lips parted slightly, but no words came out.
She hated that he knew.
Hated that he could still see right through her.
"Let me go," she said weakly, her voice barely convincing.
But he didn't.
Instead, he leaned closer, his mouth brushing against her jawline.
The warmth of his lips on her skin made her knees weaken.
"You're lying," he murmured darkly against her throat.
"You want me to let you go, but your body…"
He pressed a lingering kiss just below her ear, his voice thick with mockery.
"…doesn't want me to."
Her breath hitched violently.
She shoved at his chest, pushing him away with everything she had.
To her surprise, he let her.
She stumbled back, panting, her chest heaving. She glared at him, her hands trembling.
Her eyes burned with fury, with defiance.
"Get out," she hissed, her voice low but sharp.
Her fists clenched at her sides.
"Get. Out."
For a moment, Adrian didn't move.
His eyes slowly scanned her face—the flash of anger, the tremble in her voice.
And then, slowly, he took a step back.
But the dangerous smirk on his face remained.
"You can scream at me all you want, Liana," he murmured softly, his voice carrying a lethal calmness.
"But you'll still end up in my arms."
Her chest tightened painfully.
Without another word, he turned and walked out, leaving the apartment.
As soon as the door clicked shut, her knees buckled slightly. She pressed her hands against the wall, breathing heavily.
Her fingers trembled as she touched the spot on her throat where his lips had lingered.
Her skin still tingled.
And she hated herself for it.
---
Elsewhere – Adrian's Car
Adrian slid into the backseat of his sleek black Bentley, his jaw clenched tightly.
His fingers curled into a fist, his knuckles white.
The faint imprint of her warmth still lingered on his skin.
Her scent—the delicate trace of jasmine—still clung to him.
He closed his eyes for a moment, inhaling sharply.
He could still feel the way her body had trembled slightly beneath his touch.
She was defiant.
But he had seen the truth in her eyes.
She still belonged to him.
His eyes snapped open.
His voice was low, deadly calm.
"Find Lucas Harper," he ordered coldly.
His eyes darkened, filled with lethal intent.
"I want everything on him. Tonight."
---
See you in next chapter