Page 23 of Cruel Hero

He moves to stand beside me at the railing, his presence both comforting and unsettling. We stand in silence for a moment, gazing out at the glittering cityscape.

“It’s beautiful,” I say, more to fill the silence than anything else.

“It is,” Adrien agrees, but when I glance at him, I find his eyes fixed on me rather than the view. My cheeks flush. “You look as lovely as ever, Tiffany. Sorry for making you wait. I hope my security team hasn’t been too overbearing.”

“They were… thorough, to say the least.”

“Caution is essential in my line of work.”

“This feels a bit like overkill, though, don’t you think?”

Adrien laughs, a sound that makes my stomach flutter with butterflies. “It’s better to be safe than sorry.”

It’s ridiculous how much this terrible man still affects me; it’s like being a lovesick teenager all over again. My heart races with excitement and nerves, and I struggle to focus on anything else but him.

He takes my hand in his, his long fingers wrapping around my wrist possessively. His eyes roam over my body, taking in every detail before he speaks again. “Tell me exactly what happened this morning. In detail.”

I recount the events of the morning in as much detail as possible, watching as Adrien’s face transforms into a mask of anger. His grip on my wrist tightens ever so slightly, his body heat seeping through to me. The proximity to him is both thrilling and frightening, like being near a coiled snake about to strike.

After a moment of silence, Adrien lets go of my wrist and takes a step back, his expression inscrutable. “From now on, you will have my men with you at all times. I won’t take any chances with your safety.”

I nod.

While having his security team with me at all times will undoubtedly provide me with a sense of safety, it also means relinquishing a certain level of autonomy and independence that I cherish. But given the danger that seems to surround me, I know it’s a necessary compromise.

“Do you have any idea who those men were?”

“No,” he says with a grimace. “Your uncle had connections in many illicit operations, Tiffany. It’d be a miracle if these men were the only ones harboring resentment towards him.”

“What can I do now?” My stomach twists with dread. My uncle’s death has left me with a tangled mess of business dealings and hidden assets that I have no clue how to sort through.

The financial records of Carter Industries are in disarray, and Dean’s notes are mostly illegible scribbles. It seems impossible to trace all the money and assets scattered around the globe and tucked away in offshore accounts.

Adrien steps closer to me, his hand coming up to cup my face. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of everything.”

“I need to know what this is. What are we? Are we business partners? Are we allies or enemies?”

“We are whatever you want us to be, Tiffany.” His eyes fall to my lips. “I’m a weak, weak man when it comes to you,” Adrien murmurs, his voice low and rough, like the scrape of velvet over stone. “You’ve always had this effect on me. Even when I tried to walk away, even when I told myself I should. You pull me back in, every time.”

I swallow hard, my breath catching in my throat. The air between us is thick with tension, charged with the weight of everything left unsaid.

“Adrien…” I whisper his name, unsure of what else to say. My heart pounds so loudly that I’m certain he must hear it.

He steps closer, his body nearly flush against mine. The heat radiating from him is intoxicating, and I have to fight the urge to lean into him. His free hand finds my waist, his grip firm but not harsh, anchoring me in place.

“Tell me you feel it too,” he says, his voice barely more than a whisper now. His eyes search mine, desperate and demanding all at once. “Tell me I’m not imagining this.”

I open my mouth to respond, but the words catch in my throat. How do I tell him that, yes, I feel it—the magnetic pull, the way my body responds to his like it knows him even when my mind tries to resist? How do I admit that no matter how much I’ve tried to push him away, to protect myself from the chaos he brings, I’ve never truly been able to let go?

Instead, I let my actions speak for me. My hand reaches up, trembling slightly, to rest against the side of his face. His skin is warm, his jaw tense beneath my touch. His breath hitches, and for a moment, the world narrows to just the two of us.

“You’re not imagining it,” I finally whisper, my voice barely audible over the hum of the city below. “I feel it. I’ve always felt it.”

His eyes darken, and something dangerous flickers in their depths—a hunger that matches the one simmering low in my stomach. His hold on my waist tightens, pulling me closer until there’s no space left between us. His other hand slides into my hair, tilting my face up to his.

“Then stop fighting it,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against mine as he speaks.

I lean into him, my mouth crashing against my uncle’s killer. The contact is electric, a spark that ignites something deep within me. The taste of him is intoxicating—dark, sharp, and dangerous—and it sends a surge of heat through me that I can’t control. It’s a kiss that speaks of weeks of pent-up longing, of battles fought and lost against the inevitable pull between us.

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