First Rule: Don't Fall For The Enemy

CHAPTER 11

ADRIAN’S POV

I couldn't focus on a single goddamn word in the Peterson contract. The numbers blurred together, the legal clauses reading like a foreign language, because all I could think about was the taste of Elise's lips, the way she'd kissed me back with such desperate hunger before running away like I'd burned her.

That kiss had been everything I'd imagined and more passionate, real, electric. For those few moments, she'd been completely mine, responding to me with a need that matched my own. But then she'd fled, and I'd been left sitting on my office floor surrounded by scattered papers, wondering what the hell had just happened.

Sleep had been impossible. I'd replayed every second in my mind, the way her fingers had felt in my hair, the soft moan she'd made when I'd deepened the kiss, the look in her eyes right before her phone had buzzed and reality had crashed back in.

Now it was morning, and I was sitting behind my desk like a lovesick teenager, checking the time every few minutes and waiting for her to arrive. When she finally walked in at exactly eight o'clock, I felt my pulse spike.

"Good morning, Mr. Roth," she said, her voice crisp and professional as she set my coffee down. "Your nine-thirty with the Meridian team has been confirmed."

Mr. Roth. After last night, she was back to calling me Mr. Roth, her tone so cold and formal it was like the kiss had never happened.

"Thank you, Ms. Hart," I replied, watching her face for any sign of what she was thinking. But her expression was perfectly neutral, professionally distant.

"The quarterly projections you requested are in your inbox," she continued, consulting her tablet. "And I've rescheduled your lunch with Senator Blake to accommodate the venue change."

"About last night—" I started.

"Will there be anything else?" she interrupted, not meeting my eyes.

The dismissal hit like a slap. "Elise—"

"I have several calls to make this morning," she said quickly. "If you need anything, please let me know."

She turned to leave, and I felt something crack inside my chest. This was what I'd been afraid of—that she'd regret it, that she'd retreat behind professional walls and pretend nothing had happened.

"Wait," I called out.

She paused at the door but didn't turn around. "Yes, sir?"

"I need you to review the Henderson contracts and cross-reference them with the legal amendments from last month. Priority one."

"Of course. I'll have that ready by this afternoon."

Then she was gone, leaving me staring at the closed door and wondering how someone could kiss me like that and then act like I was nothing more than her boss.

The morning crawled by with painful politeness. Every interaction was perfectly professional, perfectly cold. She brought me documents when I asked, took messages when I couldn't be disturbed, and maintained that infuriating distance that made me want to grab her shoulders and demand to know what she was thinking.

By noon, I couldn't take it anymore. When she knocked on my door to deliver the Henderson files, I decided to confront this head-on.

"The contracts are all cross-referenced," she said, placing the folder on my desk without quite meeting my eyes. "The amendments are flagged for your review."

"Efficient as always," I said, then stood and moved around the desk. "Elise, we need to talk about—"

"I should get back to work," she said quickly, already backing toward the door.

"About last night."

She froze, her hand on the doorknob. "Last night was a mistake."

"Was it?"

"Yes." But her voice wavered slightly. "It was inappropriate. Unprofessional. It can't happen again."

"Can't it?" I stepped closer, and I saw her breath catch. "Because the way you kissed me back suggested otherwise."

Color flooded her cheeks. "I was caught up in the moment. It didn't mean anything."

The lie hit harder than I'd expected. "Didn't it?"

"No." But she still wouldn't look at me. "It didn't."

I wanted to argue, wanted to remind her of the way she'd moaned my name, the way her hands had fisted in my shirt like she couldn't get close enough. Instead, I stepped back and nodded.

"I see," I said quietly. "Well, thank you for clarifying. It won't happen again."

Relief flickered across her features, followed immediately by something that looked suspiciously like disappointment. "Good. That's... good."

"Is there anything else you need from me today?" I asked, my voice carefully neutral.

"No, I think we're all set."

"Then you can go. Take the rest of the afternoon if you need it."

"That's not necessary—"

"I insist." I returned to my desk, picking up a pen and focusing on the papers in front of me. "I'll see you tomorrow morning, Ms. Hart."

I didn't look up when she left, but I heard the soft click of the door closing behind her. Then I was alone with my thoughts and the lingering scent of her perfume.

An hour later, I needed air. The office felt suffocating. I decided to step out, maybe grab a coffee from the lobby instead of having Margaret get it for me.

As I approached the elevator, I saw Elise standing by the reception desk, looking tense. But it wasn't her expression that caught my attention, it was the man walking toward her with a cold, determined look on his face.

I recognized him immediately. The security guard from a few weeks ago, the one who'd been a little too friendly with my assistant. Jesse something.

But as soon as he spotted me, his entire demeanor changed. The cold expression vanished, replaced by professional politeness, and he abruptly changed direction, heading toward the stairwell instead of approaching Elise.

Interesting.

I walked over to where Elise was standing, noting how she watched Jesse's retreating form with what looked like relief.

"Friend of yours?" I asked casually.

She startled, spinning to face me. "What?"

"The security guard. He seemed to be coming to talk to you, but changed his mind when he saw me."

"I don't know what you mean."

"Jesse, isn't it? You two seemed pretty familiar when I first met him."

Her cheeks flushed. "He's just building security. I barely know him."

"Really?" I kept my tone light, conversational. "Because it looked like he had something urgent to discuss with you. Something he didn't want me to overhear."

"You're imagining things."

I studied her face, noting the way she avoided my eyes, the tension in her shoulders. "Am I? Because for a moment there, he looked almost... angry. Like you two had been arguing."

"Mr. Roth—"

"Is he a love interest?" I asked, trying to keep the jealousy out of my voice.

"No!" The response was so loud, so immediate, that several people in the lobby turned to look at us. Elise's face went crimson. "No, absolutely not. He's just... he's nobody."

The vehemence of her denial only made me more suspicious. Because if Jesse was nobody, why did she look so panicked? Why had he changed direction the moment he saw me?

"I see," I said slowly. "Well, I'm glad we cleared that up."

"Yes. Cleared up." She gathered herself, straightening her shoulders. "Was there something you needed?"

I almost let it go. Almost accepted her explanation and moved on. But something about the way she'd reacted, the way Jesse had looked at her before spotting me, made me dig deeper.

"Actually, yes," I said. "I need you to clear your schedule for this weekend."

"This weekend?"

"There's a conference in Chicago. Potential investors, networking opportunities. I'll need you there to take notes, coordinate meetings."

"I don't usually work weekends—"

"This isn't usual work. This is a business trip. Two days, maybe three if the meetings run long." I watched her face carefully. "Problem?"

She opened her mouth, probably to make an excuse, then seemed to think better of it. "No problem. I'll need to make arrangements—"

"Of course. Take care of whatever you need to." I paused, then added, "We'll be staying at the Palmer House. Separate rooms, naturally."

"Naturally," she echoed, but there was something in her voice I couldn't quite identify.

"I'll have Margaret book the flights. We leave Friday morning."

"Friday morning. Got it."

I nodded and turned to go, then paused. "Oh, and Elise?"

"Yes?"

"About last night..." I let the words hang in the air for a moment. "You're right. It was unprofessional. But that doesn't mean I regret it."

Before she could respond, I walked away, leaving her standing there with her mouth slightly open.