POV: Adrian Blackwell
Adrian Blackwell didn't get nervous.
He'd negotiated billion-dollar mergers with colder hands than most men shaking off a winter storm. He'd stared down oil kings, pharma CEOs, and politicians with a reputation for eating the soft-hearted alive. Emotion had no place in his world.
And yet, here he was, adjusting the cuffs of his bespoke suit in the reflection of the sleek, tinted glass of the restaurant's private suite, feeling something unfamiliar coiling in his gut.
Anticipation.
Elise Carter had agreed to dinner.
Not a business meeting. Not a media appearance. Just dinner. With him.
He didn't understand it. Ever since she'd walked back into his life weeks ago—that poised, dangerous version of her he'd never seen before—something inside him had shifted. The Elise he remembered had been soft-spoken, sweet, like spun sugar on glass. The new Elise? She was flame dressed in silk.
He liked fire.
He just didn't like not knowing where it would burn.
The door opened. Adrian turned, and the breath caught in his throat before he could stop it.
She wore red.
Not the crimson of seduction, but a deeper shade—almost burgundy. The silk dress hugged her curves, elegant and subtle, but it was the confidence in her step that made the room feel suddenly too small.
"You're early," she said, lips curled slightly.
He smiled faintly. "So are you."
They sat across from each other, the candlelight casting soft shadows across her features. For a while, silence reigned. The waiter brought wine. He let her take the first sip.
Elise tilted her head. "Trying to impress me with an '08 Bordeaux?"
"Trying to remember what you liked," he replied.
She paused for a beat. "You never knew what I liked, Adrian. That was the problem."
Ouch.
He lifted his glass. "Then let's start over."
She didn't toast. She merely looked at him, something unreadable flickering in her eyes. Then she asked the question he had been dreading:
"Why did you choose Tiffany to lead the Softlight merger?"
He leaned back slowly. "She earned it."
"With her qualifications or her proximity to your bed?"
The jab was direct. Sharp.
He sighed. "You think I let my personal life dictate my business decisions?"
Elise arched an elegant brow. "Did you not?"
He hated how unsure he suddenly felt.
The truth was, Tiffany had played her role well. Efficient, loyal—or so he believed. Elise's return had stirred up whispers. Then came the scandal. The accounts. And now? The partner companies were hesitating, and suddenly everything he thought was solid felt like quicksand.
He studied her now, across the table, watching how she held her wine glass by the stem like she knew it mattered.
"You're enjoying this," he said softly.
"Watching a liar squirm? I'd be lying if I said I wasn't," she replied, unfazed.
"I never lied to you, Elise."
"You just turned your back and let me fall."
The words hit him like a slap.
For a moment, he didn't speak.
The memory returned then. Elise, five years ago. Crying outside a press conference, eyes red as the media shredded her reputation. Tiffany whispering that Elise had "stolen funds" from the firm. He'd believed it. Too easily.
"You think I ruined you," he murmured.
She laughed, quiet and bitter. "I know you did."
Adrian swirled his wine, masking the heat creeping up his neck.
"Then why dinner?" he asked.
Elise set down her glass. "Because you owe me."
She leaned forward slightly. "You owe me your time, your attention. You owe me answers. And you owe me the truth."
He nodded slowly.
She continued. "You didn't just stand by, Adrian. You let them destroy me. And now, when the empire starts to crack, you look to me for... what? Forgiveness?"
"Redemption," he said simply.
Elise tilted her head. "Redemption isn't given. It's earned."
Adrian held her gaze.
He didn't know if he could earn it. He didn't even know if he deserved the chance.
But what he did know was this:
He hadn't stopped thinking about her since the moment she returned. And if she was here to burn down the kingdom he built?
Then maybe he deserved to burn with it.