The soft click of the door echoed through the penthouse as Adam stepped inside, leaving the city's chaos behind. Silence settled instantly, thick and absolute. His footsteps against the polished black marble floors were the only sound as he made his way through the vast, open space.
Floor-to-ceiling glass framed the skyline, revealing a canvas of glittering buildings and smudged city lights. The interior was minimalist—monochrome elegance, obsidian counters, sleek furniture, everything perfectly placed, untouched by time or emotion.
But tonight… everything felt off.
Adam tugged at his tie and tossed it across the arm of the couch—a rare act of disorder. He didn't like mess. He didn't tolerate it.
Yet right now, he was a mess.
His mind dragged him back to the club. To the moment she stumbled… right into his arms.
Mary.
Her name alone stirred something he didn't want to name.
She had fallen—quite literally—into his hands. And for the first time in years, his instinct wasn't to flinch or recoil.
It was to hold on.
He remembered the weight of her in his arms. Soft, warm. But it wasn't just her body he felt—it was something deeper. Like her presence had carved a space in him he didn't realize was hollow until she filled it.
He remembered the way she looked up at him — not like other women with practiced flirtation or manipulative softness — but with unguarded fire. Her eyes were sharp, alive, like she saw through people and didn't care if they liked it.
She didn't bat her lashes.
She challenged him.
And the strangest part?
He liked it.
She matched his energy without trying. She laughed freely. Her eyes were alive, teasing, wild. She didn't shrink under pressure. She stood with it.
It was strange.
And beautiful.
And terrifying.
She danced like she didn't care who was watching. She laughed like she owned the world. She kept up with him without trying. And when she touched his arm — so casually, so instinctively — it wasn't flirtation.
It was comfort.
And that… terrified him.
He walked to the bar, poured himself a whiskey he didn't really want, and set it down untouched. His reflection in the glass windows looked the same—composed, unreadable—but inside? Inside, something was wrong.
You said you'd never meet her.
He had sworn to stay away. Not just to protect her… but to protect himself. Because knowing Mary Kay meant knowing the girl at the center of the very mess he tried so hard to clean up. The girl whose life was shattered because of a decision made in silence. Because of him.
He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly.
You shouldn't have gone near her.
But he did.
And now that he had… he didn't want to stay away.
Is that okay? Can I want this? Can I want… her?
But then his jaw tightened. He remembered the way the men at the club looked at her. Like she was something they could buy. Or break. Like she was up for grabs.
And the thought made something inside him snap.
No.
She didn't belong to them.
She didn't belong to anyone.
But the idea of someone else taking her, touching her, owning even a piece of her—he hated it more than he should.
She had an ex, he reminded himself. She's not yours. You don't even deserve to be near her.
But that didn't stop the need that throbbed in his chest like a pulse. He didn't understand this feeling, but he knew one thing:
He didn't want to let it go.
Whatever this warmth was—this ache, this quiet fire—he wanted to keep it.
And he'd fight for it.
Even if it meant battling himself.
---
He barely slept. Tossed. Turned. Checked the time a dozen times before dawn finally bled into the city.
The sharp ring of his phone cut through the morning quiet.
He grabbed it off the nightstand, still shirtless, hair tousled, eyes bleary.
Alex.
He answered, voice rough from the lack of sleep. "Yeah?"
"Morning, sunshine," Alex said, voice too casual for the hour. "I figured I'd give you a heads-up."
Adam rubbed a hand over his face. "About?"
"Mary. She just checked in for her appointment. Hospital A."
Adam froze.
"She actually listened when I told her to get checked," Alex continued. "I didn't think she would. Looked like she just needed rest, but you know—better safe than sorry."
Adam was silent for a beat too long.
"Don't freak out, man. She looked fine. Strong. She's tougher than she lets on."
A pause. Then, softer: "But I figured you'd want to know."
Adam leaned back into the headboard, staring at the ceiling. His mind was racing. She went to the hospital. Alone. Because of something that happened while she was with him.
His fault.
Again.
His throat tightened.
"I'm coming," he said.
"Wasn't asking. Just giving you the option."
"Text me the room number. And…" He hesitated. "Don't tell her I'm coming."
"Wouldn't dream of it," Alex said, but there was a grin in his voice. "And hey, just a thought? Maybe get her number this time. Not every girl will give you a second shot."
Adam didn't reply.
But this time, he wouldn't let her slip through his fingers.