Chapter Eleven– Possisive

“Elena’s POV”

Morning sunlight glazed the sidewalks as I hurried toward HartTech, coffee in one hand, laptop bag in the other. I was halfway across the parking lot when a sleek black car eased to a stop beside me.

The window lowered.

Adrian.

His gaze swept over me, cool and unreadable. “Get in. I’ll drive you.”

I gripped my bag tighter. “That’s… unnecessary. I’m fine walking.”

“Get in, Elena.” His tone left no room for debate.

“I can—”

The passenger door clicked open from the inside.

I sighed. “You don’t listen, do you?”

“No.” He leaned slightly, eyes glinting. “Seat belt.”

Reluctance knotted in my chest, but somehow my feet betrayed me. Moments later I was inside, the door shutting with a soft, decisive thud.

Silence stretched as the city blurred past the windows. Adrian’s car smelled faintly of cedar and leather—too distracting.

He broke the quiet first. “New hairstyle.”

I blinked. “Oh. Yeah. I, uh, trimmed the layers last night.”

His eyes flicked toward me, then back to the road. “And makeup.”

I touched my cheek instinctively. “Light. Just… felt like it today.”

A pause. Then, softer but sharp: “Special occasion?”

I frowned. “Not really. Just work.”

He gave a single nod, expression unreadable.

The air in the car cooled as if someone had lowered the temperature.

“What was that?”

I stole a glance. His jaw was tight, hands steady on the wheel but the lines of his shoulders stiff.

Did he think…? I bit my lip. “Something wrong?”

“No.”

The single word iced the space between us.

I stared out the window, heart thumping. *What did I say?*

When he finally pulled to a stop in front of HartTech, I turned, searching for words. “Adrian—”

But he was already out, circling to open my door.

I stepped onto the pavement. “Thank you for the ride.”

He only gave a curt nod and slid back behind the wheel, driving off before I’d finished the sentence.

I stood there, stunned. “What did I do?”

Inside the lobby, employees greeted me with bright smiles and respectful nods.

“Good morning, Ms. Hart!”

“Morning, Ms. Elena!”

I returned polite smiles, their admiration a faint hum behind my unsettled thoughts. Everyone knew the Blackwood partnership had hinged on my late-night negotiations. Apparently, that made me a small celebrity.

But my stomach still twisted with Adrian’s sudden chill.

My office door swung open to a mountain of paperwork stacked on my desk.

“Julia!” I called.

My assistant peeked in, tablet in hand. “Yes, Ms. Hart?”

“What—why is my desk wearing a paper skyscraper?”

“They just arrived,” she said apologetically. “From Blackwood International. They need your review today.”

I groaned. “All of this?”

“Yes, ma’am. Urgent.”

I slumped into my chair. Adrian, I thought darkly. “You did this on purpose.”

“Coffee,” I muttered. “Strong.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Julia darted off.

By noon I’d clawed through half the pile, muttering his name like a curse. “Wait till I see you, Adrian Blackwood. I’ll give you a taste of this medicine.”

Freedom finally arrived with the last signature. I grabbed my bag and escaped to the small café around the corner. The smell of roasted beans wrapped around me like a sigh.

I had just ordered when a voice stopped me cold.

“Elena.”

Michael.

He stepped into my path, hands shoved into his pockets, a forced smile on his lips.

I straightened, debating whether to ignore him. To my surprise, I stayed.

“What do you want, Michael?”

His eyes darted nervously. “What’s happening between you and Blackwood?”

I blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You and Adrian,” he pressed. “Everyone’s talking. Are you…with him?”

A sharp laugh escaped me. “Really? You think you can question me?”

He flinched. “I just—”

“First of all,” I said, voice like a blade, “you have no right. Second, we are over. Permanently. You shameless cheater.”

Color drained from his face. “W–what? How—how do you—?”

I tilted my head. “Should I describe it? Your birthday night?”

He staggered back a step, eyes wide. “I—I was drunk.”

“And that excuses it?”

“I was drunk and depressed!” he stammered. “You never…let me—touch you. I was lonely.”

I stared at him, disbelief hardening into ice. “That’s your defense?”

He reached for my arm, desperation creeping into his eyes. “Elena, please—”

I yanked back. “Don’t. Ever call me. Don’t act like you know me.”

His jaw clenched, and something ugly twisted his features. “So you’re having fun with Blackwood instead? Is that it? Are you his bed warmer now?”

The words hit like a slap. Fury snapped through me.

My hand moved before I thought.

Crack.

The sound echoed in the alley as my palm met his face. His lip split, a thin line of red.

Shock widened his eyes. Then rage.

He raised his hand.

Instinctively I flinched, covering my face.

Adrian’s POV

I’d been thinking of her all morning—her new hairstyle, the soft makeup, the way she’d nodded when I’d asked about a “special occasion.”

Maybe she’s reconciling with that ex, I’d thought.

The idea burned more than I cared to admit.

I left my office early, restless, and drove to HartTech. I spotted her outside the café, sunlight on her hair.

Then I saw him.

Her ex.

They were talking—too close. His hand shot out, gripping her arm.

My pulse tightened.

I stepped from the car just as he raised his hand to strike.

Not a chance.

Two strides and I was behind him. I caught his wrist mid-air and twisted. He yelped.

Before he could turn, my fist met his jaw with a clean, sharp *thud.*

He stumbled, eyes wide.

“Touch her again,” I said, voice low and lethal, “and you won’t walk away next time.”

Fear flooded his face. He nodded rapidly, mumbling something like an apology, then bolted down the street like a whipped dog.

I lowered my arms slowly, heart racing. Adrian stood between me and the world, shoulders taut, eyes still dark with fury.

“Are you okay?” he asked, voice softer now.

I nodded, still shocked.

Without another word, he drew me into his arms. The cedar scent enveloped me, steady and warm. I pressed my cheek against his chest, the pounding of his heart matching my own.

“Let’s go,” he murmured.

I didn’t resist as he guided me toward his car, his hand firm at the small of my back.

For once, I was glad not to argue.