The night was quiet when Velvet returned to her apartment, though she had long since learned that silence often hid the most dangerous sounds. Her heels clicked softly against the marble floor as she pushed open the door, already rehearsing in her mind the next steps of her performance. Sebastian's visit still lingered in her thoughts like the aftertaste of bitter wine—sharp, intoxicating, and faintly poisonous.
She barely had time to switch on the light before a voice broke the stillness.
"You let Kane into your apartment."
Velvet's hand stilled on the switch. Slowly, she turned. Adrian Whitmore leaned against the far wall, his tall frame cloaked in shadows. His coat hung open, his tie loosened as though he had been pacing before she arrived. His eyes—storm-gray, restless—fixed on her with a sharpness that cut deeper than anger.
Velvet's lips curved, soft and amused. "And what of it?"
Adrian pushed off the wall, his stride measured, every movement simmering with restrained intensity. "You don't know what he's capable of."
"Don't I?" She tilted her head, feigning innocence. "Sebastian Kane is a businessman, nothing more."
"He's a predator," Adrian bit out. His voice was low, roughened by something darker than jealousy—fear, perhaps, though he would never admit it. "He destroys people. He'll destroy you."
Velvet let the silence stretch, savoring the tension. Then she stepped toward him, her heels clicking softly, her perfume weaving between them. She reached out, her fingertips grazing the fabric of his sleeve. The touch was feather-light, deliberate.
"Or maybe," she whispered, her gaze never leaving his, "I'll be the one to destroy him."
Adrian's jaw tightened. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, as though he were holding himself back from something reckless. "You play with fire, Velvet."
She smiled, the kind of smile that suggested both invitation and refusal. "And you," she murmured, stepping closer until he could feel the warmth of her breath, "can't seem to stay away from the flames."
His breath hitched. For a moment, the carefully constructed walls around him cracked. She saw it in his eyes—the hunger, the desperation, the battle between reason and desire. He leaned forward, as though drawn by a force beyond his control.
But Velvet pulled back just before his lips could find hers, leaving him suspended in frustration. The air between them vibrated with the tension of an unfinished act, a kiss withheld at the last possible moment.
Adrian's voice was hoarse when he finally spoke. "Do you enjoy this?"
Velvet tilted her head, feigning thoughtfulness. "Enjoy what?"
"Making me lose control." His eyes burned, his composure unraveling with every word. "You know what you're doing to me."
She let out a low laugh, not cruel, but intoxicating. "Of course I know. That's why it works."
Adrian ran a hand through his hair, pacing away from her only to turn back again. He looked like a man caught in a storm, torn between desire and fury. "One day, Velvet, you'll push too far. And when that day comes—"
She cut him off, her tone still soft, still lethal. "When that day comes, Adrian, you'll finally understand that I'm not the one losing control."
The words hung between them, a truth he wanted to deny but could not.
Velvet stepped past him, moving with the elegance of someone who knew the entire room belonged to her. She poured herself a glass of wine, lifting it to her lips as though he were nothing more than another spectator. But her pulse quickened beneath her skin, her mind alive with calculations.
Adrian Whitmore was unraveling, and unraveling men were dangerous. Yet they were also the easiest to bind.
When she turned back to him, her smile was softer, almost tender. "Adrian," she said gently, "I don't need your protection. But I do need your loyalty. Can you give me that?"
He froze, the storm in his eyes shifting. Loyalty—such a simple word, yet it bound tighter than chains.
Finally, he exhaled, the tension in his shoulders easing only slightly. "You already have it. Whether I like it or not."
Velvet's smile deepened, satisfaction glinting like a blade behind her eyes. She had won—for now.
As Adrian left, the echo of the door closing behind him, Velvet sank into her chair, swirling her wine slowly. She replayed every glance, every word, every near-touch. He was hers, bound not by love, but by obsession.
And obsession, Velvet knew, was the strongest leash of all.
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