Chapter Nine—Adrian
W e were both silent as I massaged her, my hands working over that beautiful body, kneading her flesh. My palms slid up her back, savoring the way her narrow waist tapered into soft curves, the sides of her breasts teasingly visible from this angle.
I moved lower, gripping her ass and spreading her cheeks just enough to admire the perfection between them—that pink pussy, her tight little asshole. Mmm… my dick stirred again, insatiable. But not tonight. I couldn’t push her anymore. Not yet.
I sighed, letting my hands slide down her legs, taking in the way she moaned softly at my touch. She was mine now. I’d proven that tonight.
But as much as I enjoyed chasing her, breaking through her walls, I wanted more. I wanted her to crave me—to need me—like I did her. And I knew she wasn’t there. Not yet. But she would be. I’d make sure of it.
My phone rang—the sharp tone cutting through the quiet.
Victor.
The only person I had to answer to. For now.
“Sorry, baby,” I said, peeling my hands off her, every muscle in my body protesting. It took more restraint than I thought I had. My fingers curled against the sheets before I pushed off the bed, jaw tight. “I have to take this.”
She turned over, watching me curiously as I grabbed my phone and stepped into the hall.
“Adrian,” came Victor’s velvet-smooth voice. Measured. Always in control. “I need to send you out of town this weekend. There’s a private art show at the Guggenheim. One of the attendees—Jonathan Jourdain, has money to burn. Has a large collection—most of the works rumored to be stolen. Could be a good score for us.
Victor’s voice dropped lower, sharper. “I have a shipment arriving soon. Mid-range pieces—the usual. Easy for my men to get their hands on. Study Jonathan. Learn him. What would tempt him? What would make him spend? You know how to do this.”
I nodded instinctively. This was my role. Victor set the board, and I made the final move. I read the client, knew what he wanted before he did. That part of the job was easy. Influence. Persuasion. But I also handled delivery—the part that required precision. There were moving pieces, multiple players involved.
That’s why I needed to start planning for the big job.
The Rothko. Ten million dollars. Victor had promised it to me. But when? How?
Gripping the banister, I made my way downstairs, keeping my voice smooth, careful. “Of course, Victor.” I let the silence breathe for a moment before pressing.
“And the Rothko job? Any update?”
I could hear the smirk in his voice. “Soon, Adrian. I’ll have details soon. That buyer—I’ll select personally. But I appreciate your enthusiasm.”
I nodded, clearing my throat. “Thank you, sir.” Then I ended the call, exhaling slowly.
I leaned against the kitchen counter, thinking carefully. The work had been good to me—more than good. These jobs were the reason I’d built a small fortune in a matter of months.
But it wasn’t enough.
I exhaled slowly, jaw tightening as I paced the kitchen.
I didn’t want to leave Scarlett alone for the weekend.
My absence could give Ryan a chance to creep back in. That fucking psychopath.
I needed to find out what his deal was. Scarlett had said he ‘had connections’—what the hell did that mean?
I wandered into her dining room, searching for anything useful. I needed a last name. Something. I flipped through a stack of letters—her parents in Spain. Nothing I didn’t already know. A huge pile of untouched bills.
I smirked.
Of course she wasn’t keeping up with them. I’d take care of it. Figure out her passwords. Make sure she had what she needed.
I’d protect her. Take care of her. Do anything.
Making my way back upstairs, I eased open the bedroom door, the hinges creaking softly. I’d half expected her to be asleep after everything I’d put her through, but Scarlett surprised me—still awake, naked, clutching a pillow to her chest. So damn cute.
She watched me, suspicion flickering in her gaze. “What was that about?”
“Just work stuff,” I said, keeping my tone light. She didn’t need to know. Not yet.
“Your personal training clients?” She pressed, her head tilting slightly.
“Yes. Exactly,” I smiled, letting my gaze drag lazily over her body. “Speaking of that… When are you starting your plan?”
She rolled her eyes. “Fine, I’ll try your damn workout plan,” she muttered, exasperated. “If you’ll just tell me why .”
I smirked, running my fingers along her soft curves. “I’d rather you be surprised.”
She didn’t need to know my full intentions yet. My fingers traced the curve of her body, gliding over the soft swell of her breast, dipping in to her waist, rounding out to her hips. She was perfect. And I wasn’t about to let her lose those curves while she was training hard. I’d make sure we struck the right balance.
She huffed, throwing me a look. “Always keeping me on my toes.”
I winked as I rose from the bed, pulling on my clothes.
“You relax now,” I told her. “I’ll make us dinner.”
Her face softened, sinking deeper into the bed like that was all she’d wanted to hear. I chuckled under my breath. She’d had a long day. The chase through the woods, me taking her right there in the wild. My cock twitched at the memory. Then taking everything, pushing her past every limit.
Fuck, I was hard again. I wondered how many times could I come in one day. Would she let me have her again after we ate?
Leaning down, I pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, lingering for just a second longer than I meant to. “Get some rest, baby,” I murmured, as a flicker of something unfamiliar tugged at me. Her eyes met mine, exhausted, wary, full of questions. What is it? I almost asked. But instead, I offered her a smile and forced myself to step away.
As I moved into the hallway, something settled deep in my chest. Certainty. She was mine. Not just because I’d taken her, but because I would give her something no one else could. And she’d know it soon enough.
In the quiet of the kitchen, I shut the door carefully, picking up my phone. Dialing Leo.
“I need to dig up some dirt on someone. I’ve only got a first name right now. I’ll need remote access to Scarlett’s phone.”
A pause, then a sigh. “Come on, man, I’m already tracking her whereabouts. Now you need to spy on her messages too?”
I smiled thinking of the tiny microchip hidden inside the rose pendant I’d fastened around Scarlett’s neck. Every move she’d make, I’d know. I could protect her. But I needed to be a few steps ahead. I needed more.
“It’s not enough,” I said. “I need to know who she’s calling. Texting. She’s been seeing this guy, Ryan. Sounds like he might be a problem. Dangerous even.”
“Shit,” Leo swore under his breath.
“So you’ll do it?” I asked, pacing the kitchen.
“Fuck, okay, man. Only for you. Any more details from Victor on the Rothko job?”
“Not yet,” I replied. “I’m heading to the city this weekend. Lining up buyers. Still don’t know who’s getting the Rothko.”
Leo sighed. “Alright. Keep me in the loop.”
I knew he was anxious. So was I. He deserved this job as much as I did. Maybe even more.
“How do you know she’s gonna wear the necklace everyday?” Leo asked, suddenly shifting the subject.
I smiled, pausing while I leaned against the counter, picturing Scarlett’s beautiful face. Her throat, red and raw from my belt, the necklace gleaming at her collarbone. I knew she cherished it. She loved fine jewelry—always had. I remembered the rings she used to wear back in high school, her fingers so delicate as she sketched, twirled a lock of hair, picked at her food in the cafeteria. All the times I watched her, studied her every move.
“I just know,” I said simply.
Leo chuckled. “What a romantic,” he teased. “So you’ve finally got the girl, huh?”
Something swelled in my chest. Finally got the girl. The words should have felt like a victory.
But doubt slipped in. If I could just keep that creep away from her… My fist clenched at my side as I pictured her trembling, hugging her knees to chest. The way her voice had wavered when she spoke about Ryan.
But something else nagged at me. A feeling I couldn’t shake. Her words had felt too calculated. Too rehearsed. Not that I didn’t believe a dangerous man could be obsessed with her. I scoffed. Wasn’t I proof of that?
Still… something wasn’t adding up.
Is she playing me? Is she still seeing him?
The thought alone sent my pulse skyrocketing, rage simmering in my veins. If she was lying… there’d be hell to pay.
For both of them.
She’d thought she’d seen my anger, thought she knew what I was capable of.
She had no fucking idea.
I exhaled sharply, steadying my grip on the counter. I couldn’t lose control. Not yet.
“Get me into her phone, Leo,” I said, my voice low, tight. “I’ve finally got her, I’m not letting her slip away.”
“On it.” I could hear him typing, rapid and efficient. He didn’t hesitate. He never did.
I smiled. Leo was always on top of things. I needed to do something for him soon.
“Okay, I’m in.” His voice came through the speaker, smug. “You’ll be able to see her messages, track her calls going forward. But you won’t see any old texts.”
It would do for now.
I ended the call, setting my phone on the counter. My heartbeat slowed, the rage settling into something calmer.
Anticipation.
Soon, I’d know everything.
I could protect her.
Brushing off the lingering doubt, I turned my attention to the meal, gathering ingredients with a sense of purpose. I’d pushed Scarlett’s body to her limits, wrung pleasure from her until she was trembling. Now, I’d show her I could do more than that. The scent of spices filled the kitchen as I worked, slicing into the meat, kneading ingredients together with my hands. I’d tantalize her taste buds next.
As I set the pan on the stove, my mind drifted–unbidden–to prison. Those first few days.
Meeting Malik.
A lifer. Built like a tank, eyes sharp with the kind of knowledge only decades behind bars could teach.
“We got a pretty boy,” he’d said, looking me up and down with something between amusement and warning. “You’re lucky I don’t swing that way. But some of these other guys? They don’t give a shit. You’re young, and they’ll see you as a hot piece of ass. Better watch your back.”
I played it cool, shrugged it off. I knew how to protect myself. I always had. But this wasn’t the outside world. They were all tough guys. Guys with nothing better to do than workout 24/7. I saw that hunger in their eyes. Decades without the soft touch of a woman.
For the first time since I was a kid, I was scared.
But then, Malik stepped in.
“I hooked you up, man. Got you the best job in this joint.” He smirked. “The cook. No one will touch you. No one fucks with the guy making their food.”
I tried to downplay it, not let him know how much it meant to me. Even then, I knew Malik wasn’t the kind of guy who did things out of kindness.
I managed to keep my obsession with Scarlett hidden for a few months. But the dreams gave me away—moaning her name in my sleep.
Years later, he finally found the one photo I had of her. Her yearbook photo.
I walked into the cell after lunch to find him lounging on his bunk, holding it between two fingers, turning it over like it was a playing card.
“Give it back,” I growled, my teeth clenched.
“Pretty boy like you can’t get a real picture from a girl?” he snorted. “Who is this? Your high school crush?” he pulled his legs to his chest, laughing like he’d just heard the funniest joke of his life.
I forced my face blank. “She’s no one.”
Malik shook his head, slow and deliberate, before unfolding himself from the bunk. At full height, he towered over me. Six-seven, maybe more. All solid muscle.
“I don’t think so, brother.”
He tossed the picture, and I caught it midair, my heart hammering as I pulled it close.
“She looks like someone pretty important. Or you wouldn’t be holding her picture to your chest,” Malik sneered.
I exhaled slowly, loosening my grip on the photo.
“What the fuck do you want?”
Malik smirked. “When you get out of here, I got a job for you.” He let the words settle before continuing. “I told you I got connections. Victor Santoro, I used to work for him.”
I raised a brow. “That name supposed to mean something to me?”
“Thought you were into fine art, brother. You’re telling me you’ve never heard of the guy who controls the underground art trade? Moves paintings in from overseas, delivers them to the wealthiest clients in the country?”
My eyes narrowed. I’d never heard of Victor Santoro. My interest in art had always been personal. But I was intrigued. A world I hadn’t considered stepping into.
Still… It was another favor I’d owe Malik one day.
I kept my voice careful. “And what did you tell him about me?”
Malik smirked. “I said you’re a big guy. Not afraid to throw a punch when needed, but smart enough not to lose your temper. When I mentioned you had an eye for art, that perked up his ear.”
I nodded slowly. Working in the art world would bring me closer to her.
Malik leaned against the wall, watching me like he’d already figured me out. “He needs someone to work the clients. Build trust, make them comfortable. And when the time comes—convince them the art is worth whatever price he’s setting.”
I understood. Not just a delivery guy. Sales. Persuasion.
“So, you in?”
I hesitated. “I’m… interested.” Then, “What do you want?”
“Me? Nothing.” He laughed, like the idea was ridiculous. “Just don’t forget about me once you’re outta here. Now that I done two favors for you.”
“Of course,” I muttered. A lie. I had no plans of keeping in touch.
Malik sighed, shaking his head. “I won’t be getting outta here any time soon, brother. But you–you’re almost at the end of your sentence. Go get that money. Get the girl.”
I stilled.
Since when did Malik give a shit about me having a future?
Then, as if reading my thoughts, he exhaled slowly. “Course… if I do get out early, I might need a favor of my own.”
The room went ice-cold.
Every muscle in my body locked, a tension so sharp it almost cut.
But I didn’t move. Didn’t flinch.
He came closer, his expression somewhere between a smile and a snarl. Clapping a heavy hand to my shoulder, he said, “One day, you’ll find a way to repay me.”
I breathed out slow. But I couldn’t turn this down.
“Sure. I’ll owe you one.”
His expression darkened, and he nodded like we had an understanding.
It didn’t matter. It was just words. He’s in for life.
But as I stood at the stove, stirring the sauce, I couldn’t shake the feeling. The weight of a debt I hadn’t even begun to pay.
And the sickening certainty that one day… he’d collect.