Episode 7 – The Unwanted Heat

The steady hum of rain filled the penthouse, each drop tapping against the floor-to-ceiling windows like an impatient heartbeat. New York sprawled beyond the glass, its city lights blurred by the storm, but Ayla barely noticed. She stood near the window, arms wrapped around herself, staring at the skyline as though it could offer her answers she desperately needed.

She wasn't supposed to be here. Not like this.

Dinner had been awkward enough — the expensive restaurant, the whispers from strangers recognizing Adrian Blake, the way he'd placed a hand at the small of her back when one of his business rivals made a snide remark. It had felt almost… protective. Now, standing in his penthouse, the silence between them felt louder than any crowd.

Behind her, she heard the faint clink of crystal as Adrian poured two glasses of wine. "You're quiet tonight," he said, his deep voice cutting through the sound of rain.

Ayla turned her head slightly, her eyes landing on him. He looked almost unreal standing by the bar — tall, broad-shouldered, black shirt unbuttoned at the collar, his usual cold expression softened by the low golden light. She hated that her chest tightened at the sight. "Maybe I don't have anything to say," she replied, forcing her voice to stay neutral.

Adrian's lips twitched in something that wasn't quite a smile. "Or maybe you're trying not to say what you really think."

Her brow furrowed. "And what is it you think I'm dying to say, Mr. Blake?"

He walked toward her, slow and deliberate, holding one glass of wine. Each step seemed to shrink the distance between them in more ways than one. When he reached her, he offered the glass. "That you're still wondering why you said yes to this marriage… and why, despite everything, you keep ending up in my world instead of running from it."

Ayla took the glass, her fingers brushing his. The touch was brief, but it sparked something she wasn't ready to name. "You think too highly of yourself," she said, lifting the wine to her lips. "Maybe I'm just here because I had nowhere else to go tonight."

He tilted his head, studying her like she was one of his business puzzles — something to analyze, solve, control. "Maybe. But I think you're here because you can't decide whether to hate me… or something else entirely."

Her chest tightened, and she looked away, sipping her wine to mask the swirl of emotions in her stomach. "You like hearing yourself talk, don't you?"

Adrian chuckled softly, a sound so rare she almost didn't recognize it. "Not usually. But with you… I find I can't help it."

Silence stretched between them again, heavier this time. The rain outside intensified, the wind rattling the glass slightly as though echoing the tension in the room.

Finally, Adrian stepped closer, until there were only inches between them. His hand reached up, brushing a damp strand of hair from her cheek — the same gesture as before, but this time slower, almost lingering. His fingers were warm, his touch careful, as if testing a boundary neither of them had agreed on.

"You're wet from the rain," he murmured, his voice lower now, softer but with a dangerous edge. "You should change before you catch a cold."

She should've stepped back. Should've broken the tension with a sharp remark like she always did. Instead, she found herself whispering, "And if I don't?"

For the first time, Adrian's eyes betrayed something — a flicker of heat beneath the steel, a crack in his carefully constructed armor. "Then don't blame me… when I stop pretending I don't want you."

The words wrapped around her like a physical touch, igniting something deep inside her she had been trying to bury since the day they met.

Ayla's breath hitched. She knew this was dangerous, knew that crossing this line could make everything messier than it already was. But her heart was beating so loudly she couldn't hear reason anymore.

When Adrian lowered his head, his lips brushing hers, she froze — not out of fear, but anticipation. The kiss was barely there, a whisper of contact, like he was giving her a chance to pull away. But she didn't.

And then, everything shattered.

The kiss deepened, no longer tentative. Adrian's hand slid to the back of her neck, fingers tangling in her hair as he drew her closer. His other hand found her waist, firm but not rough, as though anchoring her to him. The taste of wine and something darker lingered between them, each second making it harder for her to breathe, harder to think.

Her hands, which had been frozen at her sides, finally moved, gripping the fabric of his shirt as if to ground herself. It felt wrong, dangerous, and yet… inevitable.

When they finally broke apart, their breathing ragged, Adrian rested his forehead against hers. His voice was a whisper, raw and unguarded. "You're going to ruin me, Ayla Khan."

Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her lips still tingling. "Or maybe," she murmured, her voice barely audible, "you're going to ruin me."

For a fleeting moment, there was no contract, no pretense, no lies — just two people standing in the quiet storm of emotions neither wanted to admit.

Then, the elevator dinged.

The moment shattered like glass.

Adrian straightened instantly, his warmth vanishing, replaced by the icy composure he wore like armor. Ayla blinked, trying to catch up as a tall man in a dark suit stepped out of the elevator, rain droplets glistening on his shoulders. He carried a sealed black envelope and a presence that made the room feel ten degrees colder.

"Mr. Blake," the man said, his voice clipped and urgent. "It's time. Tonight."

Adrian's jaw tightened as he took the envelope. His eyes flicked over the contents quickly, his face hardening with every second.

Ayla, still catching her breath, stepped forward. "What's happening? Who is he? Adrian—"

Adrian cut her off, his tone sharp, commanding. "Go to your room. Now. Do not leave it, no matter what you hear tonight."

Her brows knitted. "Excuse me? You can't just—"

"Ayla." His voice dropped, cold and final. "This isn't a request. Stay out of this, or you'll regret it."

For a heartbeat, she swore she saw something else in his eyes — not just authority, but a flicker of… fear? Concern? It was gone before she could be sure.

Without another word, Adrian and the suited man disappeared into his private study, the heavy door clicking shut and locking behind them.

Ayla stood frozen, her heartbeat still racing from the kiss, now tangled with a new, gnawing tension. The kiss had left her breathless… but the mystery now clawed at her even harder.

What was Adrian hiding? And why, deep down, did she feel that whatever was coming tonight… would change her life forever?

To be continued…