Adrien’s POV
The moment I heard the soft knock on my office door, I knew it was her.
I didn’t look up. Didn’t acknowledge her.
I kept my eyes on the laptop screen, my fingers steady against the keyboard, pretending I hadn’t spent half the night replaying the way she looked at me before stepping out of my car.
"Good morning," she said, her voice softer than I expected.
Something in my chest tightened.
I ignored it.
Didn’t respond.
I heard her shift slightly, hesitating.
“I finished the report.”
Her voice was steadier this time, but I could hear it—the hope. The expectation.
I should look at her.
I should take the damn report, acknowledge her, say something other than—
"Leave it."
The words came out colder than I intended.
Her silence stretched for a beat too long.
I still didn’t look up.
I just heard the soft shuffle of paper as she placed the folder on my desk. Carefully. Too carefully.
"Oh. Okay."
She lingered.
I felt it.
Felt her stare pressing into me, waiting—for what, I didn’t know.
And for a second—just one second—I almost gave in.
My fingers stilled against the desk. Jaw tightening.
It would be so easy to look up. To meet her eyes. To let her see whatever war was raging inside me.
But I didn’t.
Instead, I leaned back in my chair, gripping the pen between my fingers, staring blankly at the screen in front of me—at nothing.
Her scent lingered in the air, delicate yet maddening, like vanilla and something faintly floral. I clenched my jaw.
I wanted to look at her. God, I wanted to look at her.
Just a glance. Just one.
But I knew myself.
One glance wouldn’t be enough.
So I forced my hand to move again, tapping the pen once against the desk.
Click.
A sharp, deliberate sound. A reminder.
Distance. Professionalism. Control.
"Close the door behind you."
Dismissive. Detached.
I didn’t watch her leave, but I heard the door click shut.
And for the first time that morning, I let out a slow, uneven breath.
The memory of yesterday evening hit me hard.
The city lights blurred past, streaks of gold and white dancing across the windshield. I exhaled slowly, letting the quiet hum of the engine fill the car.
She was asleep when I pulled away from her building. Her soft little smile before she disappeared into their house… it stuck with me. Freckles. The way she trusted me enough to let me take care of her, even for a few moments.
I couldn’t help the small, lazy grin that tugged at my lips. For the first time in days, everything felt… calm. Warm. Simple.
Then my phone rang.
Liam.
My fingers tensed on the wheel. My jaw clenched.
I debated ignoring it. But curiosity, and a hint of irritation, got the better of me. I answered.
“Walker.” I said, my teeth gritting around the name.
A pause. Long enough to make me want to throw my phone across the fucking car.
“Adrien… how’s Evie?”
I stiffened. Even through that calm, measured voice, I could hear the fucker’s claim, the arrogance dripping from every syllable.
“She’s fine,” I said, clipped, cold. Flat.
Another calculated pause. Waiting. Fucking waiting.
“You need to back the hell off,” he said, low, careful, but every word was sharp. “Don’t get in her head. Don’t—don’t think you’re some hero for her.”
I let out a humorless, bitter laugh. One corner of my mouth twitched. “Excuse me?” I hissed, veins tight.
“Don’t act like you don’t know what I mean,” he said, voice sharpening, biting now. “I’ve known her forever. You… you’re new. You don’t get to—”
“Enough,” I cut him off, voice dropping to a low, dangerous growl. Fingers curling around the wheel like I could crush it. “I’m not getting in her head, Walker. I’m not doing shit except keeping her safe. You got that?”
A dark chuckle. Not nervous. Not impressed. Calculated. “You think you’re protecting her? You don’t even know her. I do. And she’s—”
“SHUT. THE. FUCK. UP.” I cut him off again.
The words cut through me like knives. My knuckles went white on the wheel, jaw locking hard enough to ache.
“She’s not yours,” I said, low. Controlled. But my voice carried a dangerous edge — the kind that didn’t need volume to make someone shut up.
“She’s mine,” he said, calm. Smug. Like he had some divine right to claim her past.
My hand twitched against the steering wheel. A bitter laugh slipped past my lips — quiet, humorless. “You really believe that, don’t you?”
He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. I could hear the arrogance in his silence.
I exhaled slowly, forcing my tone down to a quiet hiss. “She’s not yours,” I said again, every word deliberate, controlled. “And she’s not mine either. She’s her own damn person. Understand me, Walker?”
A silence stretched across the line. I could almost hear him thinking — gauging whether to push me.
He didn’t.
“I’m just saying… don’t get any ideas,” he murmured finally. Calm. Calculated. A warning.
Click.
I tossed the phone onto the passenger seat like it was something filthy. My chest heaved. Heat coiled through me, slow and relentless, burning through the edges of my restraint.
She wasn't his.
But sure as hell not mine either.
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Bitter Love
RomantikEvie's life was simple-until a fateful encounter with Adrien Lacroix, the cold and untouchable CEO, drags her into a world she never imagined. Beneath his polished exterior lies a maze of secrets, and as Evie becomes entangled in his life, she disco...
