Chapter 11
Tiffany
T he arrival of Adrien’s security team sends a wave of unease through the bustling lobby of Leroy Holding. The imposing figures, dressed in sleek black and grey suits, tower over the crowd with their broad shoulders and formidable stature, except for one—a man in his sixties. He’s shorter than the others, with a weathered face that exudes quiet authority. His sharp, assessing eyes lock onto mine as he approaches.
“Miss Carter,” he addresses me. “Adrien has instructed us to escort you to your apartment and then to his penthouse. Please come with us.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Mr—”
“Call me Luis. Let’s keep this quick, Miss Carter. We don’t want to draw unnecessary attention.”
I glance around the lobby, suddenly hyper-aware of the curious stares from the employees milling about.
Luis motions toward the exit, with the rest of the security team falling into step around me as we move through the lobby. The sleek black SUV is waiting at the curb, its tinted windows mirroring the city lights. Luis opens the door for me, and I slide in, my hands slightly shaking as I grip the edge of the leather seat. As we exit the garage, I notice two identical SUVs forming a convoy—one in front and one behind. Adrien is not taking any risks with my safety.
The drive to my apartment is silent, save for the low hum of the engine. I stare out the window, watching the city blur past in a haze of neon and shadows. I can sense Luis’s eyes on me in the rearview mirror, assessing me. When we arrive, he accompanies me inside while the other guards maintain a perimeter around the building.
“Please gather whatever you need quickly, Miss Carter. We shouldn’t linger here long.”
As I gather the boxes of my uncle’s papers and pack an overnight bag, Luis’s watchful gaze follows my every move. His presence is both reassuring and unnerving—I’m grateful for the protection, but his stoic demeanor makes me uneasy.
“Is this everything, Miss Carter?”
I gesture to the stack of boxes. “Yes, this should be all of it.”
Luis calls in two other members of the security team to help carry the boxes down to the SUV. As we exit my apartment, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m leaving behind a part of my life—the normalcy and simplicity that once defined it.
Reaching the towering skyscraper that houses Adrien’s penthouse takes five minutes. The building is as imposing as its owner, its glass facade reflecting the setting sun in a dazzling display of colors.
“This way, please.” Luis guides me towards a private elevator, which requires both a key card and a fingerprint to operate.
The elevator ride to the top is swift, the numbers on the display climbing higher and higher until we reach the penthouse level. The doors slide open silently, revealing a sprawling space that is both luxurious and intimidating. Floor-to-ceiling windows offer a panoramic view of Empire Heights, the city lights twinkling like stars against the darkening sky.
Luis steps aside, allowing me to enter first. The apartment could be described as a typical bachelor pad—modern, but devoid of any personal touches. It feels more like a display home than a place where someone lives. A large black leather couch dominates the space, placed in front of a modern glass coffee table and a piano nestled in the corner. The only sign that someone lives here is a few books casually strewn across a table.
“Adrien will be here shortly. Please, make yourself comfortable. The security will stand outside, just in case anyone tries to enter.”
“Is this standard procedure? Do you always have armed guards protecting the women Adrien brings back to his place?”
Luis chuckles. “Adrien takes security very seriously, Miss Carter. Especially when it comes to protecting those he cares about.”
The implication hangs in the air, heavy and undeniable. I feel a flush creep up my neck, but I don’t press further. Instead, I walk over to the floor-to-ceiling windows, my fingers brushing against the cool glass as I gaze out at the sprawling city below. Empire Heights looks almost serene from this height, the chaos and danger masked by the glittering lights.
I hear the soft click of the door closing behind Luis as he exits, leaving me alone in the vast penthouse. I place my overnight bag on the coffee table and decide to look around the penthouse while I wait for Adrien to arrive.
The kitchen is all sleek stainless steel and black marble, looking barely used. I open a few cupboards, finding them stocked with expensive liquor and fine china, but little in the way of actual food.
Moving on, I discover a home office with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves filled with leather-bound volumes. A large mahogany desk dominates the room, its surface clear except for a single laptop. I resist the urge to snoop further, knowing Adrien would not appreciate me prying into his private space.
As I continue my exploration, I come across a closed door at the end of a hallway. Curiosity piqued, I turn the handle. To my surprise, it’s unlocked.
The room beyond is dark, illuminated only by the city lights. As my eyes adjust, I realize I’m standing in Adrien’s bedroom.
The bedroom is spacious and elegant, dominated by a large king-sized bed with crisp white sheets. The room exudes a sense of masculine luxury, with dark wood furniture and muted tones.
As I take a step further into the room, my eyes are drawn to a set of French doors on the far wall. They’re slightly ajar, revealing a glimpse of what appears to be a private terrace beyond. Unable to resist, I move closer, pushing the doors open wider.
The terrace is breathtaking. It stretches the length of the bedroom, offering a view of city lights twinkling below. One corner features a sleek outdoor lounge set; the other, a hot tub.
I lean against the railing, letting the cool night air wash over me. For a moment, I forget about the danger, the uncertainty, and the complications that have brought me here. I simply exist at this moment, suspended above the city I call home.
“Enjoying the view?”
Adrien’s deep voice startles me out of my reverie. I whirl around to find him leaning against the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest. He’s shed his suit jacket and tie, the top buttons of his shirt undone, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of tanned skin. His eyes are dark and intense as they roam over me, sending a shiver down my spine.
“I’m sorry,” I stammer. “I was just exploring and—”
“No need to apologize,” Adrien interrupts, pushing off the doorframe and stepping onto the terrace. His presence fills the space, commanding attention without effort. My eyes meet his, and a thrill of anticipation runs down my back. “I told you to make yourself comfortable, didn’t I?”
He moves to stand beside me at the railing, his presence both comforting and unsettling. We stand in silence for a moment, gazing out at the glittering cityscape.
“It’s beautiful,” I say, more to fill the silence than anything else.
“It is,” Adrien agrees, but when I glance at him, I find his eyes fixed on me rather than the view. My cheeks flush. “You look as lovely as ever, Tiffany. Sorry for making you wait. I hope my security team hasn’t been too overbearing.”
“They were… thorough, to say the least.”
“Caution is essential in my line of work.”
“This feels a bit like overkill, though, don’t you think?”
Adrien laughs, a sound that makes my stomach flutter with butterflies. “It’s better to be safe than sorry.”
It’s ridiculous how much this terrible man still affects me; it’s like being a lovesick teenager all over again. My heart races with excitement and nerves, and I struggle to focus on anything else but him.
He takes my hand in his, his long fingers wrapping around my wrist possessively. His eyes roam over my body, taking in every detail before he speaks again. “Tell me exactly what happened this morning. In detail.”
I recount the events of the morning in as much detail as possible, watching as Adrien’s face transforms into a mask of anger. His grip on my wrist tightens ever so slightly, his body heat seeping through to me. The proximity to him is both thrilling and frightening, like being near a coiled snake about to strike.
After a moment of silence, Adrien lets go of my wrist and takes a step back, his expression inscrutable. “From now on, you will have my men with you at all times. I won’t take any chances with your safety.”
I nod.
While having his security team with me at all times will undoubtedly provide me with a sense of safety, it also means relinquishing a certain level of autonomy and independence that I cherish. But given the danger that seems to surround me, I know it’s a necessary compromise.
“Do you have any idea who those men were?”
“No,” he says with a grimace. “Your uncle had connections in many illicit operations, Tiffany. It’d be a miracle if these men were the only ones harboring resentment towards him.”
“What can I do now?” My stomach twists with dread. My uncle’s death has left me with a tangled mess of business dealings and hidden assets that I have no clue how to sort through.
The financial records of Carter Industries are in disarray, and Dean’s notes are mostly illegible scribbles. It seems impossible to trace all the money and assets scattered around the globe and tucked away in offshore accounts.
Adrien steps closer to me, his hand coming up to cup my face. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of everything.”
“I need to know what this is. What are we? Are we business partners? Are we allies or enemies?”
“We are whatever you want us to be, Tiffany.” His eyes fall to my lips. “I’m a weak, weak man when it comes to you,” Adrien murmurs, his voice low and rough, like the scrape of velvet over stone. “You’ve always had this effect on me. Even when I tried to walk away, even when I told myself I should. You pull me back in, every time.”
I swallow hard, my breath catching in my throat. The air between us is thick with tension, charged with the weight of everything left unsaid.
“Adrien…” I whisper his name, unsure of what else to say. My heart pounds so loudly that I’m certain he must hear it.
He steps closer, his body nearly flush against mine. The heat radiating from him is intoxicating, and I have to fight the urge to lean into him. His free hand finds my waist, his grip firm but not harsh, anchoring me in place.
“Tell me you feel it too,” he says, his voice barely more than a whisper now. His eyes search mine, desperate and demanding all at once. “Tell me I’m not imagining this.”
I open my mouth to respond, but the words catch in my throat. How do I tell him that, yes, I feel it—the magnetic pull, the way my body responds to his like it knows him even when my mind tries to resist? How do I admit that no matter how much I’ve tried to push him away, to protect myself from the chaos he brings, I’ve never truly been able to let go?
Instead, I let my actions speak for me. My hand reaches up, trembling slightly, to rest against the side of his face. His skin is warm, his jaw tense beneath my touch. His breath hitches, and for a moment, the world narrows to just the two of us.
“You’re not imagining it,” I finally whisper, my voice barely audible over the hum of the city below. “I feel it. I’ve always felt it.”
His eyes darken, and something dangerous flickers in their depths—a hunger that matches the one simmering low in my stomach. His hold on my waist tightens, pulling me closer until there’s no space left between us. His other hand slides into my hair, tilting my face up to his.
“Then stop fighting it,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against mine as he speaks.
I lean into him, my mouth crashing against my uncle’s killer. The contact is electric, a spark that ignites something deep within me. The taste of him is intoxicating—dark, sharp, and dangerous—and it sends a surge of heat through me that I can’t control. It’s a kiss that speaks of weeks of pent-up longing, of battles fought and lost against the inevitable pull between us.
It’s home.