Chapter 9: Lines Blur

Mia spent the rest of the morning trying to bury herself in work, but no amount of emails, scheduling, or reports could distract her from the undeniable truth—Adrian Blackwood was getting under her skin.

By noon, she had convinced herself that avoiding him was the best course of action. She needed boundaries. She needed space. But fate had other plans.

"Mia," came a familiar, deep voice.

She looked up to find Adrian standing in front of her desk, his expression unreadable. "Yes, Mr. Blackwood?" she said, keeping her tone professional.

His lips twitched slightly at her formality, but he didn't comment on it. "Cancel my lunch meeting with Langston."

Mia frowned. "You have been trying to meet with him for weeks."

"I know," Adrian said, sliding his hands into his pockets. "But I have other plans now."

Her stomach flipped. "And those would be?"

His smirk deepened. "Lunch with you."

Mia's heart slammed against her ribs. "Adrian—"

"Not as your boss," he cut in. "Just as a man who wants to know you better."

Mia opened her mouth to refuse, but the intensity in his gaze made it impossible. She had spent so much time resisting, convincing herself that a line had to be drawn. But standing here, under the weight of his stare, she wasn't sure where the line even was anymore.

After a long pause, she sighed. "Just lunch."

Adrian's smirk softened into something dangerously close to a smile. "Just lunch."

—

Mia sat across from Adrian in an exclusive restaurant that she had only ever read about in magazines. The view of the city skyline was breathtaking, but it was nothing compared to the way Adrian looked at her—as if she were the only thing that mattered in the world.

"This place is way too extravagant for a simple lunch," she muttered, scanning the menu with wide eyes. "I probably can't afford a glass of water here."

Adrian chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "You don't have to. I invited you, remember?"

She sighed, setting the menu down. "That's not the point. I don't belong in places like this."

His expression turned serious. "Who told you that?"

Mia blinked at the intensity in his gaze. "It's just… reality. I'm not from this world."

"Then let me bring you into it," he said smoothly.

Her breath hitched. "Adrian—"

"You spend so much time convincing yourself that you don't belong, but you do," he interrupted. "I see it every day. Your ambition. Your fire. You think being poor defines you, but it doesn't. You do."

Mia swallowed hard. No one had ever spoken to her like that before. No one had ever made her feel… seen.

Before she could respond, the waiter arrived with their meals. The tension between them was momentarily broken, but the words Adrian had spoken stayed with her.

As they ate, conversation flowed more easily. Adrian asked about her childhood, her dreams, her struggles. And to her surprise, he shared bits and pieces of his own past—growing up with an emotionally distant father, fighting for control of Blackwood Enterprises, and the loneliness that came with power.

By the time lunch was over, Mia realized something terrifying.

She wasn't just attracted to Adrian Blackwood.

She was starting to understand him.