The rain tapped a steady rhythm against the penthouse windows, the only sound breaking the heavy quiet. Manhattan glittered below like a spilled constellation, but the storm hanging over the city felt closer tonight—thick and suffocating, like the turmoil twisting in Ayla Khan's chest.
She stood wrapped in her own arms before the floor-to-ceiling glass, staring out. Her reflection looked like a stranger. The broken businessman's daughter. Now the wife of a man who burned and froze her at the same time.
Adrian's voice cut through the silence behind her.
"You've been standing there twenty minutes, Ayla."
Not sharp, but that cool command she knew too well. He was leaning against the sofa, sleeves shoved up his forearms, scotch swirling in his glass. His guarded dark eyes tracked her.
She didn't turn. "Sometimes I just… forget where I am. Who I am."
His footsteps whispered closer. His cologne mixed with the damp, earthy scent seeping through the cracked window. "You're Mrs. Blake now," he said quietly. "Isn't that enough?"
A bitter smile touched her lips. "Is it? Or am I just another piece in one of your perfect little games?"
He set his glass down hard. When he stepped behind her, his reflection joined hers in the glass—towering, unbreakable. "You agreed to this. One year. A marriage of convenience. And yet…" His voice dropped, roughened. "Every time I breathe near you, you look at me like I'm the enemy."
Finally, she turned. Her eyes flashed in the low light. "Because I don't understand you, Adrian. One minute you're this ice-cold fortress. The next… I see cracks. A real person. And that terrifies me more than your threats ever could."
Thunder rumbled in the distance, echoing the charge in the air between them. Adrian closed the gap. His hand rose—not to demand, not to possess—but to gently tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
"Ayla," he murmured, voice scraping low. "You think I'm made of ice. But you're melting me. And I can't decide if that's salvation or ruin."
Her breath caught. She should've stepped back. Should've remembered their deal. But her body leaned toward his heat instead.
"Then why push me away?" The words came out barely audible. "If you're not as cold as you pretend… why couldn't you just admit what this is becoming?"
His jaw tightened. For one fractured second, his mask vanished. Raw pain flickered in his eyes—the look of a man drowning in secrets. His hand cradled her cheek, his thumb brushing her skin with a tenderness that betrayed everything the world knew about him.
"Because my world destroys things, Ayla," he said, the words almost lost under the rain. "The closer you get, the more you're in the crossfire. If I lose control—if I lose you—everything I've buried… everything I am… collapses."
Lightning flashed outside, throwing his face into sharp relief. Not fear. Something darker. Deeper. Guilt, maybe. Or a ghost he couldn't outrun.
Their eyes locked. The tension snapped.
Adrian's mouth found hers. Hesitant at first, then desperate. It wasn't just a kiss. It was surrender. A crack splitting the wall he'd built stone by stone.
When they broke apart, gasping, Ayla's palm stayed flat against his chest, feeling the wild hammer of his heart.
"This… changes everything," she whispered.
Adrian's expression hardened, though his hand stayed firm on her waist. "No. The deal stands. One year." His thumb traced absent circles on her hip. "But maybe… we stop pretending this isn't real."
Outside, the rain softened. Inside, the air thickened. No more words. Just the silent, dangerous shift of something new and fragile between them.