Elena's POV
If I could tell you how it felt to stand under a thousand glittering lights and feel only his eyes on me, you'd think I was exaggerating. But I swear, that night — in that ballroom — the whole world blurred, and it was just Adrian Knight and me.
It was my first corporate event at the company — one of those elegant fundraisers where everyone pretends to be relaxed but measures each other's worth with every glance.
I had spent all afternoon rehearsing how to be invisible. Just his assistant. Just the girl who managed schedules and handled guest lists.
But when I walked in wearing the black dress his secretary had picked for me — the one that fit a little too perfectly — Adrian stopped mid-conversation. His eyes lifted, and for a second, the air between us shifted.
He didn't say a word. But the way his gaze lingered — sharp, possessive, quiet — made something inside me melt and tighten at once.
"Stay close," he murmured later, as we entered the main hall. His hand brushed my lower back, guiding me through the crowd. The touch was light — barely there — but it burned like a secret.
For a while, everything was fine. I handed him files, smiled politely, made sure everything is perfect. But then he appeared — Mr. Carter, one of our biggest clients.
Older, confident, the kind of man who was used to being noticed.
He smiled at me. Complimented my dress. Asked if I was new. His tone wasn't exactly inappropriate — but his eyes lingered too long, and his hand brushed my arm as he laughed at something I barely said.
And just like that, I felt it.
That sudden, charged shift in the air.
I didn't even have to look. I knew Adrian was watching.
When I finally turned, I found him standing across the room — drink in hand, jaw clenched so tightly the muscle near his temple pulsed. His eyes weren't just cold. They were dark.
Dangerously dark.
The kind of dark that said someone was about to cross a line.
I excused myself from Mr. Carter and walked toward Adrian, my heart hammering.
"You okay?" I asked softly.
He didn't answer. Just looked at me for a long, unbearable moment. Then, leaning closer, his voice came out low — the kind of low that sends a shiver straight to your spine.
"Did you enjoy his attention?"
My breath caught. "What?"
He took a slow step closer, close enough that I could smell his cologne — clean, sharp, expensive — and feel the tension rolling off him.
"Because I didn't," he said quietly. "I didn't like the way he touched you."
I froze. "He didn't—"
"Don't," he cut in, his voice a whisper edged with control. "Don't defend it."
People were nearby, smiling, drinking champagne, laughing under chandeliers — and yet it felt like we were the only two people in the room.
His hand brushed my arm — not possessively, not yet — just enough to make my pulse quicken.
"You belong to me when you're here, Elena," he said, his tone calm but burning. "You work for me. You represent me. Don't let anyone touch you like that again."
Something in me should've pushed back. Should've told him he had no right.
But I didn't.
Because when he said you're mine — even though he didn't say the words out loud — something inside me trembled instead of resisting.
His eyes softened for just a second, like he realized what he'd said, like he was fighting with himself. Then he exhaled slowly and stepped back.
"Go get some air," he said, quieter now. "Before I say something I shouldn't."
I nodded, not trusting my voice, and walked out onto the balcony. The cool night air hit my skin like a jolt, but my thoughts were still burning.
I could still feel his voice against my ear.
You're mine.
It shouldn't have meant anything. He was my boss.
But the way he said it — low, raw, almost like a confession — it felt like something inside him had slipped, something real and unguarded.
And as much as I wanted to pretend it didn't affect me, I knew the truth.
It did.
Because for the first time, I saw what everyone else hadn't — the man behind the control, the one who'd rather burn the world down than watch someone else touch what he already considered his.
And deep down, I couldn't lie to myself anymore.
Part of me didn't want to stop him.