Lina skimmed over the pages of the contract once more, even though she had already read everything twice. The letters seemed to dance before her — not because they were confusing, but because she still was.
Adrian sat beside her, posture flawless, eyes fixed on her. He didn't rush. He didn't pressure. He simply… waited.
— Is everything clear? — he asked.
— Yes… I'm just… processing — Lina replied, gripping the papers between her fingers. — I never imagined my first "almost marriage" would involve fewer roses and more lawyers.
Adrian lifted an eyebrow.
— You prefer flowers and candles?
— I'd prefer not having a contract at all… — she muttered, honest. — But I understand that it's necessary. For you. And… maybe for me too.
Adrian didn't smile, but something in his gaze softened.
— It's not a possession contract, Lina. It's protection. And a way to establish boundaries. For both of us.
She nodded slowly.
It was strange.
He was strange.
But there was a sharp, cold, genuine honesty there.
When she finished reading, she took a deep breath.
— Okay… I accept these clauses. With one condition.
Adrian tilted his head, focused.
— What is it?
Lina set her finger on a specific line of the paper.
— This clause… the confidentiality one. — She sighed. — I know you want to keep everything secret from the media. But I want to be able to tell one person. My best friend. Yumi.
Adrian fell silent for a few seconds.
Long seconds.
— Do you trust her? — he asked at last.
— With my life — Lina answered instantly.
He analyzed not just the words — but the way she said them.
Then, slowly:
— I allow it. With one condition as well.
— And what is it?
— That she signs a simple confidentiality agreement.
Lina blinked.
— You… want Yumi to sign a contract?
— Nothing heavy — he clarified. — Just a formality to ensure no one is at risk. Not you, not me.
She breathed in deeply.
— Okay… fair.
Adrian closed the folder, satisfied.
— Then we're in agreement.
Lina bit her lip.
— And now? — she asked in a quiet voice.
Adrian stood up.
— Now we formalize your move.
Lina froze.
— MY WHAT?!
— Your move — he repeated, as if discussing something trivial. — If we're getting married soon, you need to live in one of my properties. Preferably with me, of course.
Lina choked on air.
— W-WITH YOU?!
— We're engaged — Adrian said naturally. — It's expected.
— But… but… but… — She waved her hands, lost. — This is way too fast!
He looked straight into her eyes.
— Lina. Do you trust me?
She opened her mouth…
Closed it…
And finally answered:
— I… I'm starting to trust you.
The corner of his mouth almost — almost — curved.
— Then there's no problem. Your safety comes first. And I won't leave you another day with that toxic family.
Her heart tightened. And for the second time that night, she almost cried — but for a completely different reason.
— Can I at least… pack my things? — she asked softly. — Get my clothes… my personal things…
Adrian nodded.
— Of course. I want you comfortable. But I won't let you go alone.
Lina's eyes widened.
— What? W-why?!
He didn't look away.
— Because I heard how your mother talked to you. And from the tone… I suspect that's normal. — He folded his arms. — I won't allow anyone to speak to you like that again.
Lina went speechless.
Completely silent.
No one had ever…
No one…
Had said something like that for her.
Ever.
When they left the office, the night air felt colder — but Lina's chest felt warm, as if something had been lit inside her.
The driver opened the door for them. Adrian entered first, then Lina.
— Wait — she said suddenly, grabbing his sleeve without thinking.
Adrian looked at her hand… then at her face.
— Yes?
Lina took a breath.
— Adrian… thank you.
He blinked once.
Then again.
And for the first time since they met…
His eyes softened completely.
— Don't thank me. Protecting you is part of the agreement.
She smiled — small, timid… but real.
— Even so. Thank you.
The car began to move.
City lights reflected on the window as Lina stared ahead, heart racing but… for the first time in a long while… hopeful.
And as Adrian looked away — just for a second — there was something in his expression he couldn't hide:
The beginning of a feeling he did not yet recognize.
The first real step between them had been taken.
And there was no turning back.