Adrian's pov

The gala was the same as every other one I had been to. Rich people in expensive clothes. Loud laughs.

Glasses of wine in every hand.

Men bragging about their new cars parked outside. Women showing off their diamonds and designer dresses.

I was bored. I didn’t even know why I came. And then I saw her.

Isabella.

The name came later, but at that moment, I only saw a woman who didn’t belong here—yet somehow owned the room.

She wasn’t trying too hard like the others. She stood tall, her posture perfect, her face calm, but her eyes… her eyes had something else.

It was not soft.

It was steel.

I froze for a second.

I had met many beautiful women in my life, but Isabella was different. There was a control in the way she carried herself, like she was aware of everyone around her, reading them, studying them.

Eleanor, my father’s business partner, came up to me and smiled. “Adrian, there you are. I want you to meet someone.”

She turned, and there Isabella was, standing right in front of me.

“Adrian, this is Isabella.”

I smiled politely. “Nice to meet you.”

I know we've met and discussed earlier, but I pretended it was my first time seeing her, so my father won't question me that much.

Her lips curved slightly. “Same here.”

It was short. Just two sentences. But her voice… It had a quiet confidence that made me want to hear more.

“Have you been enjoying the gala?” I asked.

“It’s… interesting,” she said, her eyes scanning the crowd instead of looking at me.

She wasn’t nervous. She was just… distant.

Eleanor smiled and excused herself, leaving the two of us standing there.

I wanted to keep the conversation going, but before I could speak, Isabella excused herself too.

“Excuse me, Adrian. I need to speak to someone.”

And just like that, she was gone.

I stood there watching her walk away. She didn’t look back.

That night, I couldn’t get her out of my mind.

Later in the evening, I saw her again—this time in a corner of the hall, speaking to a man I had never seen before.

The man was tall, dressed in a black suit that didn’t quite fit the style of the gala. He didn’t look like he belonged here. His eyes were sharp, like someone who noticed everything.

Isabella spoke to him in a low voice, and from the way she leaned in, it seemed private.

I couldn’t hear their words.

Something about it bothered me.

I told myself to walk away, but I didn’t. Instead, I kept my eyes on them. My instincts were warning me.

When the man left, Isabella stood there for a moment before walking toward the exit.

She didn’t notice me watching.

Back in my penthouse later that night, I poured myself a drink. The city lights shone through the glass walls, but all I could think about was her.

I had been with many women before—models, actresses, socialites. But Isabella… she was not like them.

She felt like a puzzle.

And I wanted to solve it.

The next morning, I called Eleanor.

“Who is she?” I asked.

“Who?”

“Isabella. The woman you introduced me to last night.”

Eleanor was silent for a moment. “She’s… complicated.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“She’s not someone you should get involved with, Adrian.”

I laughed. “That’s exactly the kind of thing that makes me more interested.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Eleanor said.

Later that day, I decided to go straight to my father.

He was in his office, going over some papers.

“I met someone last night,” I said.

He looked up briefly. “At the gala?”

“Yes. Isabella.”

The reaction was small but noticeable. His hands stilled on the papers for a second before he continued writing.

“What about her?” he asked calmly.

“I want to know who she is.”

He leaned back in his chair. “Why?”

“Because she’s interesting.”

“Stay away from her,” he said without hesitation.

I frowned. “Why?”

“She’s not good for you.”

“You’ve never cared about the women I date before. Why this one?”

His eyes were unreadable. “Some people are more dangerous than they look.”

“Dangerous?” I repeated.

“Yes. And Isabella is one of them.”

“Dangerous how?”

He stood up and walked toward the window. “Just… trust me on this, Adrian.”

I stepped closer. “Since when do you get scared of anyone?”

He turned to look at me, his expression hard. “I’m not scared. I’m careful. And you should be too.”

“But you are careful in a way that sounds like fear,” I said.

He didn’t answer.

That night, I found myself driving to the place where I knew I might see her again—a small rooftop bar downtown.

And I was right. She was there, sitting alone, sipping a glass of wine, looking at the city lights.

I walked up to her table.

“Do you always drink alone?” I asked.

She looked at me, surprised but calm. “Do you always follow people?”

I smiled. “Only the interesting ones.”

She tilted her head. “You think I’m interesting?”

“I think you’re hiding something.”

“And why do you care?” she asked.

“Because I don’t like mysteries I can’t solve.”

Her lips curved into the faintest smile. “Some mysteries are better left unsolved.”

“Maybe. But I’m not good at leaving things alone.”

She leaned back in her chair. “That’s not always a good thing, Adrian.”

I sat down across from her. “Tell me something about you.”

She shook her head. “No. I think I'd like it better if you didn’t know me.”

“That sounds like a challenge,” I said.

She looked into my eyes for a long moment before saying softly, “Then maybe you’re already in more trouble than you think.”

When I got home that night, my phone buzzed. It was a message from an unknown number.

Stop looking into Isabella.

I stared at the screen. No name. No clue who sent it.

And just like my father’s warning, it made me want to know even more.

The question in my mind burned hotter now.

Why would my father—who controlled everything—and a stranger—who knew I had been with her—both want me to stay away from Isabella?

And why did it feel like getting close to her might change everything?