Page 81 of My Bloody Valentine

“This complicates things.” He sets down his tools with deliberate care. “Gabe will need to be more careful with his documentation.”

“She won’t tell anyone,” I say quickly. “I explained about the trafficking ring. She understands why we do this.”

Adrian turns to face me. “Understanding isn’t the same as accepting. Or keeping quiet.”

I watch Adrian’s face harden, those elegant features transforming into something predatory. I grip the marble counter to steady myself.

“Promise me something,” I whisper. “Promise that you and Gabe won’t hurt her.”

Adrian’s fingers trace the blade of his chocolate knife. “That depends entirely on her discretion.”

“I need your word, Adrian.” My voice grows stronger. “Amelia is innocent in all this.”

He sets down the knife and cups my face, his touch deceptively gentle. “Very well. As long as she keeps her mouth shut, no harm will come to her.” His thumb strokes my cheek. “But understand this—one hint that she will expose us, and I’ll gut her myself.”

A shudder runs through me at his words. The contrast is jarring hearing this sophisticated man in his pristine chef’s coat speaking of murder with such casual brutality. Those same hands were crafting delicate chocolate curls with artistic precision just minutes ago.

“How do you do that?” I ask.

“Do what?”

“Switch so easily between...” I gesture at his workstation, the perfectly tempered chocolate. “This. And violence.”

His smile is razor-sharp. “They’re not so different, Maya. Both require precision, patience, and attention to detail. The medium simply changes.”

My stomach churns at how calmly he discusses it. I can’t deny the thrill that runs through me, knowing I’m one of only two people who truly knows both sides of him—the artist and the killer.

“I’ll talk to her again,” I say. “Make sure she understands the consequences.”

I watch Adrian’s hands resume their work with the chocolate, his movements precise and controlled despite the tension in his shoulders. The late afternoon sun streams through the boutique’s windows, casting long shadows across the marble countertop.

“I’ll give her until tomorrow,” I say, steadying my voice. “She needs time to process everything she learned.”

Adrian’s knife scrapes against the marble, creating perfect chocolate curls. “Twenty-four hours.”

“Yes. I’ll go see her first thing in the morning.” I step closer, placing my hand on his arm. “She’s my best friend, Adrian. She deserves a chance.”

He sets down his tools and turns to face me, his expression unreadable. “Your loyalty to her is admirable. But remember where your true allegiance lies now.”

“I know exactly where I belong.” I meet his gaze. “Trust me to handle this.”

Adrian’s features soften slightly. He cups my face with chocolate-warmed fingers. “Very well. Tomorrow morning.” His fingers ghost across my throat. “But if she proves unreceptive to your explanation?—”

“She won’t.” I press my palm against his chest, feeling his heartbeat. “Let me talk to her. Please.”

After a long moment, he nods. “Handle it however you see fit.”

I lean up and kiss him softly. “I will fix this.”

My mind racing, I step out of the boutique into the biting February wind. The weight of Adrian’s threat about Amelia sits heavy in my chest.Twenty-four hours.

The words loop in my head with each click of my heels against the sidewalk.

A text notification jolts my phone, and I see it’s from my editor about a deadline, but I can’t focus on work right now. Not when my best friend knows our secrets. Not when Adrian’s words about gutting her echo in my ears.

I pause at a crosswalk, watching my breath cloud in the cold air. Amelia has been there for me through failed relationships, career struggles, and family drama. She’s the one person who’s never judged or abandoned me. Until now, maybe.

But Adrian... my Adrian. He understands me in ways no one else ever has. The way he sees the world, the way he transforms evil into beauty through his creations. I touch my neck where his marks still linger, remembering how completely he owns me.

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