I told myself I wouldn't think about him.
That I wouldn't replay every second of our encounter, the way his eyes had pinned me in place, the way my name had rolled off his tongue like it belonged to him.
But I failed.
Every time the café door opened, I half expected to see him standing there again, suit perfectly tailored, smile sharp enough to cut.
And when he didn't show, I didn't know if I felt relief… or disappointment.
The day passed slowly, the city moving in its usual blur of noise and faces I didn't care to know. By the time I closed up, the streets were already dim and slick with rain, neon lights reflecting in shallow puddles.
I should've called a cab. But I told myself I could handle it.
Big mistake.
I was halfway down a narrow side street when I heard it.
Footsteps.
At first, I ignored them. This was New York; there were always footsteps. But they stayed close, steady, following mine.
I tightened my grip on my purse and walked faster.
"Hey," a voice called.
I kept walking.
"Hey, sweetheart. You deaf?"
My stomach twisted. My pace quickened.
And then a hand grabbed my wrist.
"Don't touch me!" I snapped, twisting, but his grip only tightened.
"Relax," the man drawled. He was tall, scruffy, with eyes that darted over me like I was prey. "Just want your bag. Maybe your number."
I yanked, but he held fast. My pulse roared in my ears.
And then, just like that, his hand was gone.
No — it hadn't let go. It had been removed.
The man stumbled back with a grunt, slammed against the wall by someone who hadn't been there a second ago.
Adrian.
Even in the dim light, I knew it was him. He didn't just walk into places. He arrived.
"Do you know who you just touched?" His voice was calm. Too calm.
The man stammered, "I—I didn't—"
Adrian's hand closed around his throat, cutting off the words like they didn't matter.
"This city has rules," Adrian said, leaning in as if he were whispering a secret. "And the first one is simple: you don't touch what's mine."
Mine.
The word hit me harder than the chill in the night air.
The man wheezed, clawing at Adrian's grip.
Adrian released him, letting him crumple to the wet pavement. "Run."
He did.
I stood frozen, clutching my bag to my chest.
Adrian turned to me. His suit was immaculate, his breathing steady, like he hadn't just nearly strangled a man.
"You shouldn't walk alone at night," he said.
"You were following me."
He didn't deny it. "I told you, Ava. This city isn't safe."
My throat felt dry. "Why do you care?"
His lips curved in that dangerous almost-smile. "Because now you owe me."
"Owe you?" I repeated, my voice shaking.
"Yes." He stepped closer, his cologne mixing with the scent of rain. "And I always collect."