Leah's heart hammered as she sat up, staring at the door. Adrian's voice had been calm, almost casual, but there was an edge to it—something that made her blood run cold and hot at the same time.
"Leah… can we talk?"
She hesitated, fingers tightening around the edge of the blanket. Part of her wanted to ignore him, to pretend the knock never happened, to retreat into the safety of her room and lock herself away from the storm that was Adrian Hale. But another part—a part she would never admit aloud—was too curious. Too drawn to the danger in his presence.
Taking a deep breath, she whispered, "Come in."
The door opened slowly, and Adrian stepped inside. He didn't close the door all the way, leaving just enough space for the hallway light to spill across the floor. He leaned casually against the frame, arms crossed, watching her like she was a puzzle he was determined to solve.
"You didn't expect me to knock, did you?" he asked, voice smooth, teasing, but with an undertone that sent shivers down her spine.
"I… I wasn't sure what to expect," Leah admitted, trying to keep her voice steady. She tugged the blanket closer around her shoulders, as if it could shield her from the magnetic pull he radiated.
Adrian's eyes flicked down at the blanket, then back to her face, and something unreadable passed through his expression. He stepped fully into the room, closing the door behind him, and the air seemed to shift. Heavy. Electric.
"Look, I know this is awkward," he said, pacing just a little, careful not to invade her space yet. "I know we… haven't exactly had the easiest start. I get it."
Leah's chest tightened. She wanted to ask what he meant by that, but the words stuck in her throat. Instead, she nodded, forcing a smile. "Yeah… I guess we haven't."
There was a pause. And then, unexpectedly, Adrian sat on the edge of her desk—not too close, but not far either. His presence was suffocating and exhilarating all at once.
"I just… I wanted to say that I'm not here to make things harder," he said quietly. "I know this whole… step-sibling thing isn't ideal. And I know you probably think I'm arrogant, or controlling, or—"
Leah blinked, startled. "You… think I think that?"
He gave a small shrug, but there was something in his gaze that made her stomach twist. "Maybe I do. But maybe… maybe I also know that we're going to have a lot of trouble keeping things… normal."
Leah swallowed hard, heart racing. "Normal? You mean… living under the same roof?"
"Not just that," he said, voice low. "Everything. The house, the family… me. Me being back."
Her pulse skipped. She could feel the tension in the room coil around her like a tightening rope. Adrian Hale was close, impossibly close, and the air between them crackled with a mixture of anger, curiosity, and something else—something forbidden.
Leah tried to focus on anything else—her bag, the posters she had brought from her old room, the neatly made bed—but everything in the room seemed to bend toward him. His presence, his gaze, the faint scent of cologne that reminded her of something she wasn't supposed to want.
"Adrian…" she said, finally finding her voice. "I don't know how to… deal with this. I mean… you're my stepbrother now. I know I shouldn't…"
He tilted his head slightly, the corner of his mouth lifting just enough to make her pulse thrum painfully. "Shouldn't what?"
Leah's breath caught. She didn't answer. She couldn't. She wasn't ready to admit the truth even to herself: that every time she looked at him, every time he spoke or moved or even just stood there, a part of her wanted him in a way that was dangerous, forbidden, and reckless.
Adrian's gaze softened just slightly, as if he could sense the war inside her. "Leah… I'm not going to lie. I don't expect this to be easy for either of us. But… I also can't pretend I don't notice you. Or care. Or…" He trailed off, and the silence that followed was heavier than any confession could be.
Leah's fingers curled into the blanket, nails digging into the fabric. She wanted to speak, to tell him he was wrong, that this—whatever this pull was—was impossible. But the words refused to come. Her heart was betraying her with every thump, her mind screaming at her to back away while her body refused to obey.
Finally, Adrian stood, breaking the tension like a thunderclap. "I'll leave you to settle in," he said, his voice low and measured again, but that small, unreadable look in his eyes lingered. "But… just know, Leah, that I notice everything about you. Everything."
He walked to the door, paused, and added softly, "Even the things you try to hide."
Then he was gone, and the room seemed suddenly empty. Too empty. Too quiet. Leah sank onto her bed, the blanket twisted in her hands, her mind racing. Every part of her knew this was wrong. Every part of her wanted to ignore it. And yet… she couldn't stop thinking about the way he had looked at her, the way his presence had filled the room like sunlight—or fire.
The next morning, breakfast was another minefield. Adrian was at the table before her, reading a newspaper, calm and composed as ever. Leah tried to focus on the eggs on her plate, but every time he shifted, every time his gaze flicked toward her, she felt exposed. Vulnerable. Alive in a way she didn't understand—and didn't want to admit.
Her father, nervous as always, tried to make conversation. "So… Leah, did you sleep well?"
Leah nodded quickly, words caught in her throat. "Yes… fine."
Adrian didn't speak. He only looked up from his newspaper for a brief moment, eyes locking on hers. That one glance made her forget how to breathe.
By the time breakfast was over, Leah was desperate to escape. She grabbed her bag and muttered something about unpacking, retreating to her room. Adrian didn't follow this time, but the weight of his presence lingered in every corner of the mansion, in every polished surface, in every shadow.
As she unpacked, she found herself staring at the framed photograph on her nightstand—a picture of her mother and Adrian from a year ago, smiling, unaware of the tension that would follow their families together. She touched the frame lightly, a small, ironic smile on her lips. If only life were that simple now.
A knock at her door pulled her from her thoughts. She froze.
"Leah… it's me," Adrian's voice said softly.
Her heart lurched. She took a deep breath, trying to steel herself. "Come in," she said, voice firmer than she felt.
The door opened, and he stepped inside again, closer than necessary, his gaze not leaving hers. "I just… wanted to make sure you're settling in," he said, voice low, almost intimate. "It's a big change, moving into a new home… with me."
Leah's stomach twisted. "I'm… I'm fine," she said, though she didn't sound convincing even to herself.
Adrian's lips curved into a faint, knowing smile. "Are you?" he asked, voice teasing but serious all at once. "Because something tells me… you're not."
Leah wanted to deny it, to tell him he was wrong. But instead, she swallowed hard, words lost in the magnetic pull between them. He was everywhere—closer than he should be, more dangerous than she'd ever imagined, and entirely… irresistible.
And she knew, with a sinking certainty, that surviving Adrian Hale was going to be impossible.
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