She was close now. Closer than she had ever been.
I could hear the rhythm of her breath when she passed by. I could smell the vanilla and wild jasmine in her hair. And when she looked at me—those fiery, storm-tossed eyes that didn't know what they meant to me—it took every ounce of control not to react.
Not to touch.
Not to take.
I was finally near her… but not in the way I wanted.Not how I dreamed of.
She still thought I was just a bodyguard. A stranger assigned to follow her like a damn shadow. She didn't know the truth—that I had waited years for this. That I had burned for her since she was too young, too off-limits, too forbidden.
I had no right. I knew that.But tell that to the devil in me.
I watched her from across the room as she threw her head back laughing at something her friend said. Ariella, probably. That girl never knew how to keep her tongue in check.
And Adelina—She glowed.
The sun through the glass windows framed her like something out of a dream I never deserved. Hair falling down in lazy waves, mouth soft and curved in amusement, completely unaware of the storm she stirred inside me.
I couldn't have her.
Not now.Not yet.
I was too dangerous.She was too good.And still—every night, I lay awake with her name clawing at my ribs.
She had been five. I had been fifteen.And somehow, she'd been more mature than me even then—wise beyond years, already a queen in the making.
I remember thinking: She'll ruin me someday.
And now?
Now I was willingly walking into that ruin.
But I couldn't touch her. Not while she still lived under her father's roof. Not when she didn't remember who I really was to her. Not when the world still saw her as the untouched heiress of a criminal empire and me as the blade guarding her from the dark—Not realizing I was the dark.
So I stayed silent. I stayed still.Even when she provoked me.Even when she tested me.Even when she smiled like that.
Stifled.
Trapped in this skin, in this lie, in this cage I'd built to protect her.But someday soon…She would know.
She would remember.
And when she did—I would no longer be her bodyguard.
I would be her downfall.Her ruin.Her everything.
She was sitting right there.Legs crossed, delicate fingers circling the rim of her glass, laughing at something Selene said. Her laughter—soft, honeyed—wrapped around my spine and squeezed like a noose.
She had no idea what she was doing to me.No idea how dangerous it was to be so close… so casual.
And yet, there she was.
In that tiny skirt.With that sleepy gaze.Those parted lips, red as sin.
I shifted in my seat, jaw clenched, trying to keep my breathing even. My fists rested against my thighs, white-knuckled. I was rock hard—painfully so—but I didn't move. I didn't dare.
She didn't notice.She never noticed.Not the way my eyes devoured her when she wasn't looking.Not the way I tracked every step, every blink, every breath like she was the air itself and I'd been suffocating for years.
"Lukas," she said suddenly, turning her head to me.
I froze. The sound of my name on her lips felt like a gunshot straight through my chest.
"Do you ever blink?" she teased, smiling lazily. "You just stand there like some emotionless statue."
I forced a breath. My voice came out lower than intended. "I don't blink around danger."
Her brows rose, amused. "Oh, I'm danger now?"
You have no idea, doll.
But I only offered a faint smile. That's all I could give without snapping. Without dragging her into the chaos burning just beneath my skin.
She laughed again, unaware of the war she had started inside me.
And I?I was a loaded weapon.
Barely holding myself together.
I noticed it—The way her shoulders tensed.The way her smile faltered for just a second.The way her hand subtly pressed against her temple.
Fuck.Not again.
It was her migraine.
I was up before I even realized I'd moved, the chair scraping behind me. She didn't look up—too busy pretending she was fine, too proud to say anything in front of her friends. But I saw her. I always saw her.
"Adelina," I said, stepping closer.
She winced again and waved me off. "I'm fine."
She wasn't.
Her skin had paled, and that stubborn glint in her eyes wasn't enough to cover the slight tremble in her fingers.
"No, you're not," I muttered, my voice lower now—rough, concerned, but still edged with steel. "Where's your meds?"
She glanced at me, surprised. Maybe it was the way I said it. Maybe because for the first time, I didn't sound cold. I sounded… human.
"In my bag," she mumbled reluctantly.
I was already moving.
She hated being fussed over. Hated attention when she wasn't in control of it. But this? This wasn't up for discussion. I brought her water, placed the pills in her hand without a word. Her fingers brushed mine—soft, hesitant—and for a second, she looked at me like she was seeing something unfamiliar.
Something she didn't expect.
"Thanks…" she said softly.
I didn't answer.
Because I was too busy memorizing the curve of her mouth, the way her lashes fluttered as the pain eased, and wondering how long I could keep pretending this was just a job.
Because when she was in pain, everything else burned away.
I'd kill for her comfort.And I'd destroy anyone who made her suffer.Even if that included myself.
Once I was sure the migraine meds had kicked in—once her breathing evened out and her lashes lifted from those haunted eyes—I leaned in slightly.
"Let's go," I said, my voice back to that same cold, detached tone.No softness now. No emotion.
She blinked up at me, a flicker of protest in her expression. She didn't want to leave. She was finally relaxing with her friends, laughing for once. But she also knew better. She knew me.
And like the good girl she was—She didn't disobey.
Adelina stood with the slightest sigh, gathering her things. I noticed the way her friends gave her a look—some teasing, some curious, some pitying. But she didn't say a word. She followed.
Good girl.
My fists clenched by my sides.
Because fuck—if only they knew how badly I wanted to be more than just her shadow. How badly I wanted to take her somewhere far from all this and ruin her peace completely. Not for pain. Not for power.
Just to make her mine.
But not yet.
Because I was still caged by rules, by control, by a past that demanded restraint.
So for now, I'd settle for obedience.For her silence.For the way she always listened when I told her to move.
And she did.She walked out with me, her head high.
But I noticed the way her hand brushed mine again—accidental, maybe. Or maybe not.
Either way, I felt it.
And damn me—I wanted more.
During the drive back, silence hung heavy in the air—thick with things neither of us dared to say.
I kept my eyes forward, hands gripping the wheel just a little too tightly. From the corner of my eye, I noticed her head beginning to tilt.
The medicine had finally pulled her under.
She fell asleep beside me—soft, fragile, unaware.
I should've looked away.
But I didn't.
Her lips were slightly parted, lashes brushing her cheeks. Her body relaxed for once, the tension gone from her shoulders. Peaceful, unguarded. And fuck me, it was the most dangerous sight I'd seen in years.
Because right then, every line I had drawn for myself blurred.
I could touch her.Just her hand.Just her cheek.She'd never know.
But I didn't.
Because I knew—the moment I touched her, I'd lose all control.And I couldn't afford that.
Not yet.
So I sat there in silence, jaw clenched, chest burning.
This woman—this delicate, infuriating storm wrapped in silk—had no idea what she was doing to me just by breathing near me.
She didn't know what I was holding back.
And if I was smart, I'd keep it that way.
For now.
I slowed the car.
Not because I had to.But because she was asleep… and for once, she looked like she wasn't fighting the whole damn world.
I wanted to give her just a few more minutes of peace.Something she never got—trapped between overprotective men and her own iron pride.
The world could wait.I could wait.For her… I would.
My eyes flicked to her again. Her breathing was soft and steady, her head slightly resting against the window. A few strands of her hair had fallen across her face, and I had the maddening urge to tuck them back.
But I didn't.
I just drove slower. Silent. Controlled. Drenched in a restraint that was barely hanging by a thread.
Because as much as I craved her—her fire, her defiance, her fucking chaos—I would never take what wasn't willingly given.
Not from her.
But make no mistake...
She was mine.She just didn't know it yet.