Like the air owed him rent.
“Who’s that?” I asked quietly.
Mia followed my gaze and winced. “You don’t know?”
“Obviously not.”
“That’s Adrian Vale.”
The name rippled through me, though I couldn’t explain why.
“Vale Industries,” she continued under her breath. “Tech acquisitions. Hostile takeovers. He buys companies and dismantles them for sport.”
I watched as a group of investors approached him, all eager smiles and handshakes. Adrian didn’t look impressed. He barely looked interested.
He looked bored.
And powerful.
“Rumor says he’s circling Ford Enterprises,” Mia added.
My stomach dropped.
Ford Enterprises.
Dylan’s company.
“That’s just gossip, right?” I asked, trying to sound casual.
Mia didn’t answer.
As if summoned by fate—or irony—Dylan appeared at my side, wrapping an arm around my waist. “There you are, sweetheart.”
He kissed my temple, warm and familiar. Safe.
“Babe,” I said lightly, nodding toward the dark-haired stranger across the room. “Is that Adrian Vale?”
Dylan’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
“Yeah.”
“He’s here for the charity?”
“He’s here because he enjoys watching people sweat.”
I blinked. “What does that mean?”
“It means,” Dylan said smoothly, “he’s been sniffing around my board members.”
My pulse quickened. “Is that bad?”
Dylan gave me a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “It’s nothing I can’t handle.”
Across the room, Adrian’s gaze lifted.
And locked onto mine.
It felt physical. Like a hand sliding down my spine.
He didn’t look away.
Didn’t even pretend to.
Heat crawled up my neck.
Dylan followed my line of sight and stiffened. “Ignore him.”
“I wasn’t—”
“Serena.” His voice dropped, warning threaded beneath the softness. “Men like him don’t play fair.”
Something about the way he said it unsettled me.
Not protective.
Possessive.
“Relax,” I said, forcing a laugh. “I’m engaged, remember?”
Dylan’s grip tightened at my waist. “Exactly.”
The rest of the evening blurred into polite conversations and fake laughter, but I felt Adrian’s gaze more than once. Every time I looked up, he was watching.
Not in a flirtatious way.
In a calculating one.
Like he was solving a puzzle.
Like I was part of it.
Near midnight, I escaped to the balcony for air. The cool Manhattan breeze hit my skin, easing the tightness in my chest.
“You look like you’re plotting murder.”
His voice came from behind me.
Low. Smooth. Dangerous.
I didn’t turn immediately. “And you look like you eavesdrop on strangers.”
A quiet chuckle.
“I prefer observe.”
I faced him then.
Up close, Adrian Vale was even more intimidating. His eyes were darker than I expected—almost black. Sharp. Intelligent. Unapologetic.
“You’ve been observing me all night?” I asked.
“Yes.”
No hesitation.
My breath hitched despite myself. “Why?”
“Because you don’t belong here.”
The words should’ve offended me.
Instead, they felt… accurate.
“And you do?” I challenged.
He stepped closer. Not enough to touch. Enough to invade.
“I own rooms like this.”
Confidence radiated off him, thick and unapologetic.
“And yet,” I said lightly, “you’re alone on the balcony with me.”
His gaze flickered over my face, slow and assessing. “Temporary distraction.”
“I’m not a distraction.”
“No,” he agreed quietly. “You’re leverage.”
Ice slid through my veins.
“Excuse me?”
“Ford Enterprises is overextended. Your fiancé’s been making aggressive expansions.” His voice was calm, clinical. “Risky ones.”
I stared at him. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because you should know what you’re marrying into.”
Anger flared. “You don’t know anything about us.”
Adrian tilted his head slightly. “I know Dylan Ford hides debt behind charm.”
“That’s not true.”
“Isn’t it?”
The certainty in his tone rattled me.
“He loves me,” I snapped, hating how defensive I sounded.
A shadow of something—amusement?—crossed his face.
“I’m sure he does.”
That wasn’t agreement.
That was doubt.
Before I could respond, Dylan’s voice cut through the tension.
“Is there a problem here?”
He stepped onto the balcony, eyes hard as steel.
Adrian didn’t move away from me.
“No problem,” he said smoothly. “Just congratulating your fiancée.”
Dylan slid an arm around my shoulders, pulling me against his side. Territorial.
“For what?” Dylan asked coolly.
“For choosing ambition over comfort.”
Dylan’s smile turned sharp. “Careful, Vale.”
“Always.”
The air between them felt electric.
Hostile.
Predatory.
“Serena,” Dylan said, eyes never leaving Adrian, “why don’t we head inside?”
I nodded, though my mind was racing.
As Dylan guided me away, I felt Adrian’s gaze linger.
Like a promise.
Or a threat.
Later that night, when we were alone in Dylan’s penthouse, I couldn’t shake the unease.
“You didn’t tell me the company was struggling,” I said carefully as he loosened his tie.
“It’s not struggling.”
“Adrian Vale seems to think—”