Chapter 16
Adrian
I'm surrounded by the soft glow of multiple screens. Each display chronicles Sophia's descent into chaos, a symphony of destruction conducted through careful manipulation of seemingly random events.
My fingers trace across the surface of my tablet, scrolling through reports detailing the gallery's sudden "financial difficulties," the result of a few strategic calls, subtle pressures applied in the right places. The lease violations required more finesse and a little research. It needed to be serious enough to warrant immediate action, yet subtle enough to seem like an unfortunate discovery rather than orchestrated harassment. The solution presented itself in her building's outdated electrical system. A few modifications to the inspection records showed her unit drawing dangerous levels of power—consistent with the kind of equipment used in small-scale drug manufacturing. The building's ancient wiring made it a legitimate fire hazard.
An anonymous tip to the landlord about strange chemical smells combined with the doctored power readings did the rest. The property manager had no choice but to act immediately. Even if Sophia fought it, the legal battle would drain what little resources she had left.
The social media feeds scroll past, Marina's accusations spreading like wildfire through the art community. Such a useful pawn, so eager to tear down a rival at the slightest encouragement. I watch the comments pile up, knowing they're only driving Sophia further into isolation.
Webcam footage plays across another screen, Sophia pacing her apartment, phone pressed to her ear as she makes desperate calls to other galleries. Her shoulders slump further every time she's rejected. She doesn't know I've blacklisted her everywhere.
My jaw tightens as I review the surveillance footage from three nights ago. Daniel entering her building, leaving hours later. I force myself to unclench my fists. This transgression, I'll permit. Once. She's hurting, seeking comfort in familiar territory. But Daniel's usefulness has expired. If he continues sniffing around her, I'll ensure his promising career encounters some unfortunate setbacks. The art world can be so fickle.
I pull up the latest reports on her apartment search. Every potential lead mysteriously falls through, leaving her with dwindling options. Soon, she'll have nowhere left to turn. No one left to trust.
Except me.
I feel a hint of a smile on my lips. Everything proceeds according to plan. The pieces are in motion, and Sophia's world is crumbling exactly as designed.
The penthouse feels hollow without her creative energy filling these sterile spaces. I catch myself glancing toward the studio door, remembering how she'd lose herself in her work, completely unaware of my watching.
I check my watch, 7:42 p.m. She'll be here within minutes. My calculations are solid. The gallery rejection, the lease violation notice, Marina's character assassination, all pressure points designed to drive her back to me.
The security feed shows empty hallways, but anticipation coils in my chest. I've arranged every detail. Even Daniel played his part perfectly, though he doesn't realize how his disappointing comfort only pushed her closer to her breaking point.
The buzzer rings at 7:45 p.m. Right on schedule.
Through the monitors, I watch Sophia shift her weight from foot to foot, proud even in defeat. Her hair is pulled back messily, dark circles under her eyes betraying sleepless nights. The sight stirs something possessive in me. I want to smooth away that exhaustion, replace it with the fire I know burns beneath.
Minutes later, Mara leads her to my study, tension evident in both women's postures. I remain seated at my desk as Sophia bursts into the room like an avenging angel, beautiful in her rage.
"You did this!" she screams as Mara excuses herself. "The gallery, the apartment, Marina's accusations, it's all connected to you, isn't it?!"
I stay silent, drinking in her presence. She paces before my desk, listing the disasters that have befallen her. Her hands shake as she speaks, but her chin stays high.
"Every gallery in the city suddenly closed their doors to me. My landlord is evicting me on ridiculous grounds. And Marina?" She laughs bitterly. "She couldn't have known those details about me unless someone fed them to her."
The fury radiates off her, and I have to resist the urge to smile. Even cornered, she's magnificent. This time without her has been necessary but torturous. Now she's here, exactly where she belongs, though she doesn't realize it yet.
"Are you going to say anything?" she demands, hands planted on my desk as she leans forward. "Or just sit there looking pleased with yourself?" When I still don't say anything, she continues. "Did you really think I wouldn't figure it out?" Sophia's voice cracks as she points at the screens behind me. "That you've been harboring this fucking obsession over me?" Her chest heaves with each accusation, hair falling loose from its messy bun. The shadows under her eyes only heighten her raw beauty. "You destroyed everything I worked for!" She slams her palms on my desk. "My reputation, my home, my independence, gone. And for what? To prove you could?"
A tear slides down her cheek. My fingers itch to brush it away, but I wait. Let her spend her anger first.
"The worst part?" She lets out a bitter laugh. "I trusted you. I actually believed you wanted to support my art. But it was all just another game of control, wasn't it?"
When her words finally run dry, I rise from my chair. I take my time as I walk from behind my desk. She tenses as I approach but holds her ground.
"You're right." I stop beside her, close enough to catch the scent of her shampoo. "I orchestrated everything. The gallery's sudden financial concerns, the lease violation, even Marina's convenient discoveries about your past."
Her eyes widen at my casual admission. "Why?"
"Because you belong to me, Sophia." I brush my knuckles along her arm. "You should be here, where I can protect you from the vultures circling your talent."
She jerks away. "Protect me? You're the one who set them loose!"
"To show you what I can offer." I catch her wrist firmly. "Stay with me. I'll make the gallery reconsider. Marina's accusations will be discredited. We can form a partnership," I continue, releasing her wrist to cup her face. "Your artistic freedom with my resources and protection. Think of what we could create together."
Her breath catches. I see the war in her eyes—desire for the opportunities I offer fighting against her need for independence.
"And if I refuse?"
"Then you leave here exactly as you arrived." I stroke my thumb across her cheek. "A ruined woman. But consider what you'd be walking away from. Not just the restored reputation and career opportunities, but everything we could build together."
She needs to understand: This isn't just an offer—it's the only path forward.
"What are you getting out of this?" she asks, exhausted and frustrated.
I step closer, drinking in her presence. "You," I say simply. The word hangs between us. "The partnership only works if you're here. Living here."
Her eyes dart to the door, then back to me. I watch the calculations play across her face as she processes her situation. The art world has turned against her. Her apartment is gone. Her reputation lies in tatters.
"Think about it," I continue. "Your own studio space. Resources to create without limitation. Protection from those who'd tear you down." I pause, letting the points sink in. "All you have to do is stay."
I see the moment reality settles over her. Her fingers twist together as she glances between me and the exit, fight or flight instincts kicking in beneath her skin.
"The choice is yours," I say, though we both know there's only one real option. She's cornered.
The first slap catches me off guard. And more follow, aimed at my face, my chest. Sophia loses control and keeps slapping me as tears start streaming down my face. I take the onslaught until I come back to my senses and seize her wrists. She's crying, hard, tears of defeat.
"No!" I grunt, pulling her hard against my body. I wrap my arms around her and fiercely whisper into her ear. "Why don't you see that I'm giving you a gift? I picked you out of everyone—"
"But why?" she wails, going limp in my embrace.
"Because there's no one like you, Sophia. I must have you for myself. And I know you want what I can give you. No one else can give you what I can."
Sophia whimpers as my lips get closer to her ear. She struggles in my hold even as I feel her body shudder, her head tilting to the side to invite me closer.
"Adrian," she whispers longingly, the fight leaking out of her.
Then my hunger steals over me, possessing me.
"My Sophia," I growl, my hands dragging down her back, down to her ass. "I can feel it, you want to give yourself to me."
I hold her close, feeling her breasts press against my chest, her heart pounding in time with mine. I back her toward the expansive glass wall, the city lights stretching beyond. She's soon trapped between me and the window, her clothes falling away as if by their own volition, but she's the one desperate to be rid of them. I tear at my own, needing to feel her skin against mine. Her eyes are teary, lost in the same desperate hunger that consumes me.
She wraps her legs around my waist as I lift her, pressing her against the glass. The city outside blurs as I claim her mouth in a deep, demanding kiss. She tastes of tears and desire, her lips moving in perfect sync with mine.
My cock throbs, aching to be inside her. With one swift motion, I thrust into her wet heat, both of us moaning into each other's mouths. Her nails dig into my shoulders as I begin to thrust, each stroke claiming what's mine.
Her breath comes in sharp gasps, matching the rhythm of our bodies. I feel her legs tighten around me, her hips moving to meet my thrusts. The glass bites into her back, but she doesn't seem to notice, lost in the pleasure that consumes us both.
I feel her surrender in the way her body yields, her eyes meeting mine with silent consent. My hand constricts around her throat, and she lets out a strangled moan.
Our bodies move together, a wild dance of flesh and sweat. Her nails dig into my back, leaving marks that will fade long before the memory of this night. I tighten my grip on her throat, just enough to heighten the sensation, and her juices gush around me, slick and hot. Her pussy clenches around my cock, milking me with each thrust.
"You like it when I take control, don't you, Sophia?" I growl, my breath hot against her skin. "You want me to make you feel things you've never felt before."
Her only response is a keening whimper as her hips buck against mine. I can feel her climax building, her body tensing around me. I tighten my hold on her throat, my cock pounding into her with relentless force.
I feel her body tense as I tease her tight asshole with my thumb, her eyes widening in surprise. But the taboo act only fuels her desire, her moans growing louder as I continue to pump into her. Her hands grip my shoulders as she writhes against me.
The pleasure is electric, our bodies moving in perfect sync. I can feel her tremble as I reach my peak, my breath coming in sharp gasps. With a final, powerful thrust, I release deep inside her, my hot seed spurting into her welcoming pussy.
Sophia's eyes fly open, her mouth forming a perfect O of surprise and pleasure. Her body convulses around me, her orgasm a powerful contraction that squeezes me dry. I let go of her throat, cupping her face as our eyes lock amidst our shared release.
Our breathing is ragged, our bodies slick with sweat. I feel her heart pounding against mine, her legs still wrapped tightly around my waist. For a moment, we stay like this, suspended in the aftermath of our passion.
Then, slowly, I begin to move again, my cock still hard inside her. I want to savor this moment, draw it out as long as possible. I want to brand myself into her memory, ensure she never forgets this night.
"You're mine, Sophia," I whisper, my voice hoarse with desire. "Say it."
She hesitates, her breath coming in short gasps. "Yours," she finally whispers, her voice breaking on the word.
I pull out slowly, savoring the sensation of her body clinging to mine. I watch her face, the mix of pleasure and surrender in her eyes. Then, with a final, possessive kiss, I step back, letting her slide down the glass wall.
I watch her, my eyes tracing the curves of her body, now glistening with sweat. She's breathtaking, a work of art I've claimed as my own.
And with our relationship changed like this, with the partnership binding us, Mara's meddling is over.
And Sophia is well and truly mine.