Chapter 3

Connie's POV

The sky was turning gray-gold at the horizon when I woke. Pale light filtered slowly through the clouds.

My skull felt like it was splitting open. I pressed the heels of my hands against my eyes and rubbed until the ache dulled. Before my eyelids were even fully open, fragments of the previous night came rushing back.

She's nothing more than the Whitlocks' adopted daughter. A woman like her could never be worthy of me.

Grayson's voice echoed in my head, and my chest seemed to cave in all over again.

I lay there, sunk into the pillow, my throat tight and the air around me feeling impossibly heavy. It was as if something were pressing in from every direction, leaving me unable to draw a full breath.

Then I heard the soft scrape of curtain rings.

Adrian had drawn the sheer curtains open.

Morning light flooded the room, spreading in one broad sheet. The pressure I'd felt seemed to ease all at once.

An easy, unhurried voice came from beside the bed.

"Awake?"

I looked up and found myself staring straight at a face that had no business being real.

He stood beside the bed, arms folded, looking down at me. His expression was unreadable for a moment before he spoke.

"Miss Hale, you were the one who took advantage of me. Shouldn't I be the one who's upset?"

My fingers twisted in the sheet.

Took advantage?

The memories came rushing back. The elevator. My arm hooked around his neck. My refusal to let go. Then dragging him back to my room.

The ache in my chest hadn't even faded, and yet heat was already creeping up my throat.

I looked at him again, only for my gaze to land on his throat.

A faint pink crescent of teeth marked his pale skin.

I couldn't look away. His throat had a clean, sculpted line, as if it had been carved by hand. With that little mark on it, the sight was almost unbearably intimate.

My fingers tightened around the sheet.

I did that. I bit him. Last night.

What the hell was wrong with me?

He watched as the realization dawned on me, one corner of his mouth lifting.

"Miss Hale."

Flustered, I raised my head and met his gaze. His eyes were narrow and very dark.

"Now that you're awake, do you remember who I am? I told you last night. I'd rather you figure it out on your own."

I studied his face.

Then a name exploded in my mind.

"You're—you're Adrian Vance?"

Yes. Of course. Him.

Under normal circumstances, I would've recognized him in an instant. There was no way I should've failed to recognize someone like him.

But last night...

I let out a groan and smacked my forehead with the heel of my palm. I couldn't believe I'd actually failed to recognize him.

My thoughts drifted back before I could stop them. High school. College. We'd gone to the same school both times.

He had been the one everyone knew. Even back then, he had stood out. A top award at the Regeneron Science Talent Search. A gold medal at an international science olympiad. Several major patents bearing his name as the sole inventor.

And it wasn't just academics. Football, basketball, tennis, climbing, swimming. Whatever he tried, he seemed to excel at.

Back in high school, I'd often waited around for Grayson to finish up. One day, I cut through the gym on my way to find him. Adrian was already on the court, playing. Grayson and his friends came in and spotted me sitting in the bleachers, watching.

One of them grinned.

"Adrian's kind of a big deal around here. Every girl in school is obsessed with him. Don't tell me you're one of them, Connie."

What had I said?

I'd sat there in the bleachers, watching the figure in the white jersey. Then I'd turned my head and smiled.

"Please. I only like Grayson."

At the thought of Grayson, my head lowered again. A bitter taste rose in the back of my throat.

Adrian seemed to notice my attention drifting. He stepped away from the bed and leaned against the desk, his trousers falling in clean lines down his legs. He crossed his ankles and watched me from the side.

"Connie."

"...Hm?"

I looked up at him.

Then, inevitably, my gaze slipped back to the mark on his throat.

I clutched the sheet tighter.

I'd really done something unforgivable.

"How do you plan on making this up to me?"

I blinked. My gaze fell to the rumpled sheets, then to the state I was in. My face grew even hotter.

Make it up to him? Did he mean that kind of making it up?

Maybe I could just pay him.

"You know Helion Bio is preparing for its Nasdaq IPO, don't you?"

I looked up and nodded. "I do."

I'd spent enough time handling executive matters at Thayer Capital to know how much was riding on it. Helion Bio was on everyone's lips. Adrian had built the company from the ground up, and it was now valued at more than five billion dollars, with its IPO fast approaching.

He didn't elaborate. Instead, he reached into his jacket, took out his phone, and held it toward me.

The screen was already lit. I took the phone. Several photos flashed before my eyes.

A hotel corridor. Harsh yellow lighting.

Me.

I was on my toes, my arms looped around his neck, my face inches from his. One of his hands was at my waist, the other raised between us. The angle was ugly and deliberate. From where the photographer had been standing, it looked as though we were kissing.

I swiped.

There I was, kissing him.

Another swipe.

There I was, pulling him by the wrist toward the room.

My finger stopped against the screen.

I couldn't move it.

The alcohol from the night before seemed to rise through me again, but there was nothing warm or careless about it now. Only dread and shame, closing in from every direction.

"Someone was taking pictures." His voice remained even, giving nothing away. His eyes stayed on my face. "The original shots have already reached a few news desks. They can publish them whenever they want. If those photographs break as a scandal, investor confidence will take a hit. The underwriters could reprice the offering, and the IPO could suffer damage I might not be able to undo."

Guilt tightened around my ribs.

I'd gotten drunk. I'd lost control. One stupid night of letting go, and now a man who had nothing to do with my heartbreak was paying the price.

I bit the inside of my lip and lowered my eyes.

"I'm sorry, Adrian. I was drunk. I wasn't thinking. I'm so sorry."

"Connie."

I looked up.

"You don't have to keep apologizing. I'm not here to listen to all that."

His voice wasn't loud, but it silenced me all the same.

I knew he wasn't blaming me. Somehow, that only made me feel worse.

I sat in silence for a moment before another thought occurred to me.

I could go to my adoptive father. He had connections. Maybe he could help keep the photographs from getting out.

The thought had barely formed before I pushed it away.

No. I couldn't go to them.

The Whitlocks had taken me in when I was an orphan and supported me through their charitable trust. On paper, I was their adopted daughter. But being taken into the family and being accepted by it were two very different things.

I had no claim to the inheritance, no voice in the family's decisions. Whatever respectability I had was written into the trust's rules, not earned through anyone's affection.

They wanted me quiet, grateful, and out of trouble. If word reached them that I'd gotten drunk and dragged a stranger into a hotel room, they wouldn't see a woman in pain. They'd see someone who didn't know her place, making a mess for the family to clean up.

I didn't want to become another burden they could hold over my head.

So I sat there, staring at the creases in the sheet. The press, the underwriters, the valuation. What exactly was I supposed to do about any of it?

I drew a long breath and lifted my head.

"I know an apology won't fix this. Your company's about to go public, and the damage could be far greater than anything I can imagine." My voice barely held steady. "But I'll do whatever it takes to take responsibility for my part in this."

"If that means lawyers, PR, or covering expenses, I'll find a way. I don't have much money. I don't have a lot of people who'd pick up the phone for me. But I'm not going to leave you to deal with this alone."

Only then did I notice how damp my palms were.

I had no idea how far I could actually go.

And I had no idea what a promise like that meant to a man worth billions.

But I couldn't do nothing.

Adrian studied me for a long moment.

Then he spoke.

"What if I told you there's a way to settle this?"

I went still.

"What way?"

He leaned back against the desk, his tone as casual as if he were discussing an ordinary business arrangement.

"Marry me."