CHAPTER FOUR -- THE MOVE

Nathaniel was the opposite of Adrian in looks. Where Adrian came off as dark and smoldering, Nathaniel was blonde and bright, almost preppy. He reminded her of the high school jocks who were overly generous with hair gel and Axe spray.

As soon as she met his eyes though, she stepped back in fear. He looked furious, his eyes blazing as he glared at his brother.

“We need to speak,” he bit out, paying her no attention.

Adrian took a hold of her arm and pivoted her around, his face set in a flat line.

“Now is not the time, brother,” Adrian said, voice as chilly as ice. “Zara needs to get home. She has an early day tomorrow.”

No, I don't. 

Zara bit back her words wisely, grateful to not be in close proximity to Nathaniel's potent anger.

Adrian led her away and out of the hall to a waiting car with tinted windows. He opened the doors for her and slid in after her.

Wordlessly, the car moved and she sat still, not knowing what to make of her evening.

Zara's apartment looked even smaller with Adrian Cross standing in it. He filled the space with his presence, making everything else seem diminished in comparison. His Italian leather shoes looked absurd against her worn hardwood floors, his perfect suit a stark contrast to the shabby chic décor she'd once been proud of. He surveyed the space with the same clinical detachment he seemed to apply to everything, while his security team efficiently packed her belongings into boxes.

The scent of him—that maddening cologne—mixed with the familiar smells of her apartment: old books, coffee, the lavender candle she burned when working late. The combination was disorienting, like worlds colliding.

"The furniture stays," he said, making notes on his tablet. His voice seemed to fill the small space, making her too aware of his presence. "Everything else goes into storage except what you need immediately." He paused at her desk, examining the wall above it covered in news clippings and sticky notes. "Your investigation board stays with me."

"That's personal," Zara protested, moving to stand between him and the wall. The action brought them closer than she'd intended, her back nearly touching his chest. She could feel the heat radiating from his body.

"That's evidence." Adrian's hands settled on her shoulders, turning her to face him. Even through the thin material of her shirt, his touch sent sparks across her skin. "Everything about your life becomes carefully controlled from now on. One mistake, one leaked detail about our arrangement, and it all falls apart."

"You mean your reputation falls apart." She tilted her head back to meet his gaze, too aware of their height difference, of how he seemed to loom over her in the confined space.

"We both know you didn't crash that party just to confront Mark Haynes." Adrian stepped closer, backing her against the wall. Her investigation board pressed against her shoulders as he placed one hand beside her head, effectively caging her in. "You're looking for a way back in, a story big enough to erase your mistakes. I'm offering you that chance. Don't waste it by being sentimental."

His proximity was overwhelming. She could see the faint stubble along his jaw, smell the lingering traces of scotch on his breath, feel the way the air seemed to charge between them. Their kiss at the gala flashed through her mind, making her cheeks flush.

Zara crossed her arms, creating a barrier between them. "Fine. But I want copies of everything."

"Already being scanned." He gestured to one of his team, who was photographing each document meticulously. His eyes dropped to her lips for a fraction of a second before he stepped back. "Are you ready?"

No, she wasn't ready. This morning she'd been a disgraced journalist planning a confrontation. Now she was moving in with one of the most powerful men in New York, playing a role in a game she didn't fully understand. The memory of his kiss still burned on her lips, a reminder of how dangerous this game could be.

"Yes," she said anyway.

The ride to Adrian's penthouse was silent, but charged with unspoken tension. Zara watched the city lights blur past, trying to ignore the weight of Adrian's gaze. He hadn't stopped studying her since they left the party, as if she were a puzzle he couldn't quite solve. Every time the car turned a corner, their thighs would brush, sending jolts of awareness through her body.

The elevator opened directly into the penthouse, and Zara's breath caught. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a stunning view of the city spread out below like a carpet of stars. The interior was a masterpiece of modern design—all clean lines and subtle luxury. Everything spoke of wealth and power, carefully controlled and displayed, just like the man beside her.

"Welcome home," Adrian said, his voice low and intimate in the quiet space. His hand rested on her lower back as he guided her inside, the touch seemingly casual but sending shivers up her spine. "For now, at least."

The marble floors gleamed beneath their feet as they walked through the open-plan living area. A massive fireplace dominated one wall, while abstract art pieces worth more than her yearly salary once was decorated the others. The furniture was all leather and chrome, sophisticated yet somehow masculine, like everything else about Adrian.

"Your room is this way." He led her down a hallway, past several closed doors. The carpet muffled their footsteps, making the moment feel oddly intimate. "My sister has the one across from you. She'll be here tomorrow—I suggest you make a good impression."

His hand hadn't left her back, and Zara found herself hyper-aware of every small movement of his fingers. When they reached her door, he finally dropped his hand, leaving her skin tingling in its absence.

The bedroom was larger than her entire apartment. Moonlight streamed through another wall of windows, illuminating a king-sized bed draped in what looked like silk sheets. A garment bag lay across it, the designer label catching the light.

"Everything you need for tomorrow's press conference is in there," Adrian said, moving to stand behind her. His breath stirred her hair as he spoke. "Hair and makeup will arrive at seven. Try to get some sleep—tomorrow will be challenging."

"Press conference?" She turned to face him, not realizing how close he was until they were nearly chest to chest.

"We're announcing our engagement before the photos leak. It's better to control the story than react to it." His eyes traced her face, lingering on her lips. The memory of their kiss at the gala hung between them like an electric current. He turned to leave, then paused. "One more thing. Mark Haynes has requested an exclusive interview."

Zara's hands clenched. "What did you tell him?"

"That depends on you." Adrian stepped closer, eliminating the space between them. His fingers came up to trace her jawline, the touch feather-light but burning. "Do you want revenge, Ms. James, or do you want justice?"

"Is there a difference?" Her voice came out breathier than she'd intended.

"Revenge is emotional. Justice is strategic." His thumb brushed across her bottom lip, mirroring his gesture from earlier. "Choose carefully. Everything you do from now on reflects on me."

Their faces were inches apart, and for a moment, Zara thought he might kiss her again. Her heart thundered in her chest as his hand slid to cup the back of her neck, his touch both gentle and possessive.

But then he stepped back, breaking the spell. "Get some rest," he said, his voice rougher than usual. "Tomorrow we begin the real performance."

With that, he left, closing the door behind him. Zara waited until his footsteps faded before sinking onto the bed, her legs shaking. The silk duvet was cool against her heated skin as she lay back, staring at the ceiling.

What had she gotten herself into? This wasn't just about a fake engagement anymore. The way Adrian touched her, looked at her, kissed her—it felt dangerous in a way that had nothing to do with scandal or secrets.

She rolled over, burying her face in a pillow that probably cost more than her monthly rent. It smelled fresh and expensive, like everything else in this world she was stepping into. A world of power plays and hidden agendas, where nothing was what it seemed.

Including, perhaps, her own feelings about Adrian Cross.

Sleep, when it finally came, was filled with dreams of whiskey-colored eyes and possessive hands, of kisses that felt too real to be fake, and secrets that could destroy them both.