Adrien's POV
The city sprawled beneath the penthouse windows, glittering, restless. Usually, that view steadied me. Tonight it only mocked me. Every light was another story, another pair of eyes turned toward a narrative I couldn't control.
I loosened my tie and dropped into the leather chair by the window. My reflection in the glass stared back—jaw tight, eyes shadowed. My mother's voice still lingered from dinner: "Sofia is elegant. Discreet. A woman worthy of the Moreau legacy."
She hadn't said Nora's name, but she didn't need to. Every syllable was a blade, reminding me exactly where my family thought Nora belonged—nowhere near me.
I poured a drink I didn't want, just to keep my hands busy. The ice clinked, sharp in the silence.
That's when Daniel let himself in. No knock, no warning—he never bothered.
"Good evening, sunshine," he said, strolling in with a grin that didn't belong in the aftermath of the kind of dinner I'd just endured. He snagged one of the pastries the housekeeper had left on the counter, took a bite, and leaned against the kitchen island as though he owned the place.
I didn't bother with pleasantries. "What do you want, Daniel?"
"Company. Entertainment. A reminder that you're still human and not a brooding statue." He raised his pastry like a toast. "And possibly your finest scotch. Depends on how generous you're feeling."
I shot him a look but slid the bottle his way. He poured without hesitation, then wandered closer, studying me.
"You've got that look again," he said.
"What look?"
"The one that says, 'I just came from a dinner where my mother sharpened knives with her smile.'" He sipped, winced. "God, I love this scotch."
I didn't answer.
Daniel set the glass down and dropped onto the couch opposite me. "Alright, let's play a game. I'll guess what's eating you. You tell me if I'm right."
I gave him nothing.
He grinned wider. "Option one: Sofia said something that made you want to throw her into traffic."
I exhaled slowly.
"Option two: your mother reminded you that you're her favorite marionette."
My jaw ticked.
Daniel leaned forward, eyes dancing. "Option three—and my personal favorite—you can't stop thinking about a certain woman with dark hair and eyes that make you forget how to breathe."
My silence must have betrayed me, because he laughed outright. "Bingo."
I stood, pacing to the bar to refill my glass. "Drop it."
"Not a chance," Daniel said. "You've been different since Nora. Don't deny it—I've known you too long. The way you look at her, the way you don't look at anyone else… it's hilarious, really. The mighty Adrien Moreau, undone by one woman."
His words hit too close, because they were true. I gripped the glass tighter.
Then Daniel added, almost carelessly, "Speaking of Nora—I saw her earlier. With someone."
I froze.
The words were casual, tossed out like nothing. But they landed with the weight of stone.
"With who?" I asked, sharper than I meant to.
Daniel blinked, then smirked knowingly. "Relax. I don't know his name. Tall guy, well-dressed, standing a little too close if you ask me. They were outside her building."
The ice in my glass had nearly melted, forgotten in my hand. A dull heat flared in my chest, fierce and irrational.
Daniel noticed, of course. He noticed everything. "Ohhh," he drawled, delighting in my reaction. "That's interesting. You've got that vein in your temple doing the thing it does when someone challenges you in a meeting."
"Daniel," I warned.
"Don't 'Daniel' me. You're jealous."
"I'm not."
He laughed so hard I thought he might spill his drink. "Adrien, you're jealous. It's written all over you. God, this is better than television."
I turned away, pacing back toward the window. Jealous. The word burned because it was true. I could picture it too easily: Nora on the sidewalk, some man leaning too close, saying something that made her eyes soften, made her laugh.
The thought of it was unbearable.
Daniel sobered a little, though amusement still curved his mouth. "Look, I don't know who he was. Could've been nothing. But if you don't figure yourself out soon, someone else will."
His words landed harder than he probably meant.
Because the truth was, I'd already felt it slipping. The distance I'd put between Nora and me—thinking it was safer, thinking it was controlled—might only be opening the door for someone else to step in.
And the idea of losing her…
I set my glass down before it shattered in my hand.
Daniel stretched out on the couch, utterly at ease. "So what's the plan? Keep brooding until Sofia drags you down the aisle? Or finally admit that Nora's the one thing in your life you can't outmaneuver?"
I didn't answer. Not out loud.
But deep inside, the truth I'd been avoiding pressed harder, undeniable.
Nora wasn't a distraction. She wasn't a liability to be managed.
She was it.
The realization struck like a crack of thunder, both terrifying and electrifying. For years I'd built my life on strategy, on never allowing weakness. But if this was weakness, then I didn't want strength.
I wanted her.
And if I didn't move soon, I might lose her.
Outside, the city glittered on, uncaring. Inside, I felt the ground shift beneath me.
For the first time in years, Adrien Moreau didn't have control.
And for the first time, he realized he didn't care—so long as he had her.