Chapter 5
FIVE
RILEY
The Philadelphia sky blazed with the amber and rose hues of sunset as Riley walked the three blocks to Zephora, each step a small rebellion against the voice in her head screaming that this was a terrible idea.
The warm evening air carried the familiar sounds of the city—distant traffic, conversations drifting from sidewalk cafes, and the rhythmic clatter of heels against concrete—but none of it could quiet the restless energy thrumming beneath her skin.
Adrian had been right about needing a quieter environment for their discussion. Her cramped office, surrounded by everything she'd built and everything that was slowly crumbling, wasn't exactly conducive to rational conversation. The logic was sound and professional.
So why had she spent thirty minutes standing in front of her closet like a teenager preparing for prom?
Riley glanced down at the blue sundress she'd finally selected, the soft fabric swaying against her thighs with each step.
The dress wasn't particularly revealing—modest neckline, knee-length hem—but it hugged her curves in ways that made her acutely aware of her own body.
She couldn't remember the last time she'd worn a dress voluntarily, let alone to what was supposed to be a business meeting.
This isn't a date, she reminded herself for the hundredth time. It's still a financial consultation.
But if that were true, why had she spent another ten minutes debating what shoes to wear? Why had she applied mascara and lip gloss with the kind of care she usually reserved for professional photo shoots?
She never did this for anyone before. Not even Trent. The realization sat heavy in her chest as she approached the restaurant's warm glow spilling onto the sidewalk.
Get a grip, Riley. He's here to discuss numbers and profit margins, not to sweep you off your feet.
But even as she tried to convince herself, Riley couldn't shake the memory of how Adrian had looked at her in the gym—like she was something precious and dangerous all at once. The way his blue eyes had tracked her movements during class. And that handshake.
Her palm still tingled with the memory of his skin against hers, and the jolt of electricity that had raced up her arm and settled somewhere deep in her chest. She'd never experienced anything like that before, and the rational part of her mind insisted it had been nothing more than static electricity or an overactive imagination.
However, the rest of her wasn't buying it.
Riley pushed through Zephora's glass doors and immediately spotted Adrian at a corner table, partially hidden by the restaurant's warm lighting. He'd arrived early—of course he had—and something about his posture suggested he'd been waiting with barely contained energy.
He looked up the moment she entered, and his entire body went still in that predatory way she'd noticed at the gym.
Like a man who couldn't wait to see you again.
The thought hit her with such startling clarity that she nearly stumbled. This wasn't just professional courtesy or punctuality. Adrian Kael had been eager for this dinner, and the realization sent heat spiraling through her body.
He rose from his chair as she approached, moving with that same controlled grace she'd observed earlier. Every gesture was economical, purposeful, but there was something in his expression that suggested he was holding himself back from something much more primal.
"Hello again, Riley."
Her name rolled off his tongue like a caress, and she had to suppress a shiver as his intoxicating scent enveloped her again—that woodsy and masculine mixture that made Riley want to step closer instead of maintaining professional distance.
Before she could respond, his hand was at the small of her back, guiding her toward the chair he'd already pulled out. The gesture was so smoothly executed, so naturally protective, that she found herself settling into the seat before her brain could protest the old-fashioned courtesy.
Definitely alpha male territory, she thought, trying to ignore how good his hand had felt against her back.
As Adrian returned to his own chair, she caught him glancing at the modest V-neck of her sundress—just a quick flicker of his gaze, but enough to make her acutely aware of the small amount of cleavage the neckline revealed.
Heat bloomed in her cheeks, and for once in her life, Riley felt genuinely sexy in her own skin.
This is so not a business meeting.
"I have a confession," she said, latching onto the first topic that might restore some semblance of professional boundaries. "I think my mother may have orchestrated this dinner suggestion."
Adrian's expression shifted, a slight flush creeping up his neck that made him look younger and infinitely more approachable.
"Your mother has excellent instincts," he admitted, his voice carrying a hint of embarrassment that was oddly endearing.
"I couldn't help but take her advice. I wanted this to be a relaxed conversation—somewhere you wouldn't feel cornered or pressured into accepting whatever recommendations I might have. "
The sincerity in his tone caught her off guard, and Riley felt some of her defensive walls beginning to lower despite her best efforts.
"Well," she said, attempting to inject some lightness into her voice, "how bad is it? And please don't sugar-coat it. I can handle the truth."
Adrian's expression grew serious, and she watched him choose his words carefully.
"It's not great," he said finally. "Based on your current profit margins and the rate at which your expenses are increasing, you have maybe six months to turn things around before the gym becomes financially unsustainable."
The words hit her like a punch to her sternum, knocking the breath from her lungs. Six months. Her life's work, everything she'd built from nothing, everything that defined who she was—gone in six months.
"That can't be right," she said, her voice sharper than intended. "I've been careful. I've been smart about expenses, I've—"
"Riley." Adrian's voice was gentle but firm, cutting through her rising panic. "The numbers don't lie. But that doesn't mean this is hopeless."
The waiter appeared at their table with impeccable timing, his cheerful demeanor a jarring contrast to the weight settling in Riley's chest. She ordered a Caesar salad without really thinking about it, her appetite having vanished the moment Adrian had delivered his verdict.
"It's going to be okay," he said quietly after the waiter left, and something in his tone made her look up.
"I have several short-term fixes that will help stabilize your cash flow immediately.
But if you're looking for long-term viability, we need to explore ways to increase your visibility and bring in more foot traffic. "
Riley's stomach clenched, and not from hunger.
"Here we go," she muttered. "Let me guess—I need to get more social media presence, maybe soften my image, smile more for the cameras, turn myself into some kind of fitness influencer who sells protein shakes and motivational quotes."
She could feel herself getting defensive, the familiar walls slamming back into place. This was Trent all over again—another man who thought he knew better than she did about how to run her own business.
But Adrian's response surprised her.
"Actually," he said, leaning forward with an intensity that made her pulse skip, "I want to play to your strengths, not change your image in any way. You've built something authentic here, Riley. Something that matters to people. The last thing I'd want to do is ask you to compromise that."
The honesty in his voice made something tight in her chest begin to loosen.
"I'm willing to work with you to come up with options that fit your vision and your comfort level," he continued. "But I need you to trust me enough to let me try."
Riley stared at him across the table, caught between the fierce independence that had carried her this far and the growing realization that she might not be able to save her gym alone. Something in Adrian's expression—patient, determined, and surprisingly respectful—made her want to believe him.
For the first time in months, she felt like she might not have to carry everything by herself.
The waiter arrived with a flourish, placing Riley's simple Caesar salad and Adrian's perfectly cooked steak between them.
He then presented a bottle of red wine with a practiced cork-pull, pouring a taste for Adrian, who gave a curt nod of approval.
As the waiter filled their glasses, Riley was starting to feel calmer.
Maybe it was the aroma of food, or the warm, inviting glow of the restaurant, or the way Adrian hadn't pressed her after delivering his grim financial prognosis.
She picked up her fork and took a bite of the crisp romaine and sharp parmesan. The simple act of eating tonight with Adrian felt like a small reclaiming of normalcy after six months of extreme stress.
Adrian watched her for a moment, his gaze intense but not intrusive. "You don't have to talk about anything you don't want to tonight," he said, his voice a deep rumble that seemed to vibrate through the air. "But if you do, I'm just going to sit back and listen."
The offer felt like a trapdoor opening beneath her feet.
She never talked about Trent or her personal life that much.
Not to anyone but Lila or her mom, and even then, it was with clipped sentences.
Never to a man she'd just met, especially one who looked like he'd stepped out of a fantasy and smelled like a forest after a storm.
Yet, the words climbed her throat, fueled by a sudden, reckless need to be understood by him.
She took a large gulp of wine, the warmth spreading through her chest.
"Pace yourself," Adrian said, a faint, almost imperceptible smile touching his lips.