Eve couldn’t move.
Her fingers were locked around the doorknob, her breath frozen in her chest.
Adrian Cross.
The name burned through her mind like a match to gasoline.
She hadn’t seen him in nearly a year. Not since that one night—the night she’d done something reckless, something stupid. The night she’d kissed him.
She should have known he’d never really left.
Outside the door, he didn’t knock again. He didn’t speak. He just stood there, waiting, the way a predator waits for its prey to come to him.
Her throat was tight. “What do you want?”
Silence.
Then, a deep, low chuckle.
“I think you already know.”
The sound of his voice sent a violent shiver down her spine. Dark, smooth, dangerous.
She hated how easily her body responded to it.
She licked her lips, forced herself to stay calm. “You broke into my apartment.”
A pause. Then, a slow, deliberate answer.
“I did.”
No denial. No excuses.
Eve’s stomach knotted.
She had spent the last year trying to forget him. Trying to erase the way his lips had felt against hers, the way his fingers had curled around her throat just enough to make her ache before he let go.
But Adrian never let go of anything.
“I should call the cops,” she whispered.
He sighed. A soft, amused sound. “You could.”
A pause.
“But you won’t.”
She clenched her jaw. “Why not?”
Adrian leaned in, his voice a rough whisper against the door.
“Because I know you, little rabbit.”
Her breath caught.
And then—the sound of keys.
Her entire body went still as the lock clicked.
Her keys. The ones she always kept in her purse. The ones she had never, not once, misplaced.
Adrenaline surged through her veins. She stumbled back as the doorknob turned, the metal creaking beneath his grip.
She should have run. Should have bolted for the fire escape.
But she didn’t.
Because deep down, some twisted part of her wanted to see him again.
The door swung open.
And there he was.
Adrian Cross was taller than she remembered. Bigger. Dressed in black from head to toe—black shirt, black slacks, black leather gloves.
He stepped inside like he owned the place.
Like he owned her.
The moment the door shut behind him, the room felt smaller. The air, thinner.
He stood there, watching her. Unhurried. Unbothered.
His dark eyes flicked over her—her loose sweater, the bare skin of her legs, the rapid rise and fall of her chest.
Heat crawled up her neck, a dangerous mix of anger and something worse.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
Adrian tilted his head, his lips curving into a slow, wicked smirk.
“You always ask the wrong questions, sweetheart.”
She glared at him, her nails digging into her palms. “Fine. How did you get my keys?”
He hummed, stepping closer. Not stopping until she had to tilt her head to meet his gaze.
“I took them.”
Her breath shuddered. “When?”
Adrian reached into his pocket, pulled out the black envelope from earlier, and set it down on the counter.
Her stomach twisted.
He’d left it for her.
Which meant…
Her pulse spiked.
“You were here last night.”
He didn’t answer.
He didn’t have to.
A slow, creeping fear curled around her spine. She had spent the last night sleeping peacefully, completely unaware that he had been inside her apartment. That he had been watching her.
That he had been close enough to touch.
Adrian sighed, shaking his head. “You never did learn how to lock your windows properly.”
Her blood turned to ice.
“You—”
His fingers curled around her wrist.
Not hard. Not rough. Just enough to make her heart stutter.
“I told you to be careful.”
His grip tightened, just slightly, a warning.
“But you didn’t listen.”
Eve tried to pull away. He didn’t let her.
His other hand came up, fingers brushing the side of her neck, tilting her chin up so she had no choice but to look at him.
“I waited a year,” Adrian murmured. “A whole fucking year.”
His thumb traced the line of her jaw, slow, deliberate.
“And what do I find when I come back?”
Her breath was shaky. “I don’t—”
Adrian’s lips brushed her ear.
“I find another man’s hands on you.”
Her stomach dropped.
The date.
Two nights ago, she had gone out with a man from the gallery. They had kissed outside her apartment, nothing serious, nothing deep.
But Adrian had seen.
That was what the text had meant. I don’t like sharing you.
A sharp thrill of fear and something far, far worse coiled in her gut.
She tried to shove at his chest, tried to twist out of his grip.
Adrian only chuckled.
Low. Dark.
Like he liked this.
“You think I’m going to hurt you?” he asked softly.
Eve stilled.
His fingers slipped from her jaw, trailing down her throat, pressing just enough for her pulse to hammer beneath his touch.
He didn’t squeeze.
Not yet.
“I could, you know.” His voice was almost thoughtful. “You’d let me.”
Her body betrayed her.
A soft, shallow inhale. A shift of her hips. A heat that had nothing to do with fear.
Adrian smirked.
And then, suddenly—he let go.
Eve stumbled back, breathing hard.
Her throat felt too tight. Her skin, too hot.
Adrian watched her, his expression too calm.
Then, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a second black envelope.
He held it out between two fingers.
“Open it,” he said.
Eve didn’t move.
He stepped closer, slipping the card into her sweater pocket instead, his fingers brushing over her hip.
“Happy Valentine’s week, little rabbit.”
Then, just like that—he was gone.
The door shut behind him.
And Eve stood there, alone, heart racing, with nothing but a black envelope burning against her skin.
