Chapter 2 The Night They Couldn't Forget

The night air pressed cool against Elena's skin, but her pulse burned hot as Adrian Knight stepped onto the balcony. The hum of the gala was far behind them now, muted by heavy doors and the distance of marble halls. Out here, the city stretched in glittering silence, as though holding its breath.

So was she.

"You shouldn't be here," Elena whispered, her voice thinner than she meant it to be. "Your wife is looking for you."

Adrian's eyes held hers, unwavering. "Cassandra is always looking for me. But tonight..." He paused, studying her as if she were a painting he couldn't quite interpret. "Tonight, I saw someone who made it impossible to play the dutiful husband."

Her breath hitched. "You don't even know me."

"Don't I?" His voice lowered, velvet and steel. "I know you're not impressed by all these-the power, the diamonds, the masks people wear. You walk through a room full of pretenders as if you see right through them. And I know that when I look at you, I feel-" He broke off, shaking his head. "-something I haven't felt in a long time."

Danger. The word rang in her chest like a warning bell. Yet her body leaned closer, betraying her.

"Mr. Knight"

"Adrian," he corrected.

She swallowed. "Adrian... this is wrong."

"Maybe," he murmured, closing the last of the distance between them, "but tell me you don't feel it too."

Elena's lips parted, denial on the tip of her tongue. But then his hand brushed against hers-an accidental touch that wasn't accidental at all-and the world tilted. The warmth of his skin sent a shiver racing up her arm, stealing her protest.

She didn't answer. She couldn't.

And that silence was all the permission he needed.

In the next breath, Adrian's mouth claimed hers.

The kiss was fierce, unrestrained, the kind of kiss that stripped away reason. Elena gasped against him, her body pressed against the hard wall of his chest as if she had belonged there all along. His hands cupped her face, tilting her toward him with reverence and hunger in equal measure.

Every rational thought screamed for her to pull back, to stop this before it went too far. But her heart... her heart betrayed her, beating in wild surrender.

She kissed him back.

The city lights blurred, the gala dissolved. All that remained was his taste dark, intoxicating and the heady rush of giving in to something forbidden.

When he finally pulled away, both of them breathless, Adrian's forehead rested against hers.

"This shouldn't happen," she whispered.

"No," he agreed softly. "But it's going to."

Elena's chest rose and fell in sharp rhythm as Adrian's words sank into her. But it's going to. Dangerous. Certain. Inevitable.

Her lips trembled with words she couldn't force out. She should tell him no. She should remind him of his ring, of the world that waited for him behind those gilded doors. Instead, she found herself staring into his eyes, unable to deny what her body already had.

Adrian brushed his thumb along her jaw, lingering, as though memorizing the shape of her. "Say something," he murmured.

But Elena didn't. She kissed him instead.

The decision was reckless. Maybe even ruinous. But in that moment, surrender felt like freedom.

Adrian pulled her closer, deepening the kiss until her breath came in ragged bursts. One hand slid to the small of her back, pressing her against him; the other tangled in her hair, tilting her head to his will. She melted into him, heat coursing through her veins as if her body had been waiting for this precise collision.

When they finally broke apart, Adrian's eyes burned with something she couldn't name. "Come with me," he said.

Her heart thudded painfully. "Where?"

"Somewhere no one will interrupt us."

Every instinct screamed at her to refuse. But when he laced his fingers through hers and led her back inside, she followed.

The hallways of the Knight estate stretched endlessly, lined with oil paintings and polished floors that reflected their hurried steps. Adrian's grip was firm, unyielding, as though afraid she might vanish if he let go.

He pushed open a heavy door and ushered her into a suite that smelled faintly of cedar and expensive cologne. The space was hushed, private, a world away from the noise of the gala.

For a heartbeat, they simply stared at each other. He looked every inch the billionaire controlled, powerful, unshakable yet in his eyes flickered rawness, desire stripped bare.

Elena's voice shook. "This is madness."

"Yes," Adrian agreed, stepping closer. His hand lifted to her cheek, his touch reverent. "But tell me you don't want it too."

She should lie. She should push him away and walk out the door before it was too late. But when his mouth descended on hers again, she clutched at his jacket, answering him with a fervor that betrayed every defense she'd tried to build.

The night unraveled into fire and shadow. Her emerald dress pooled on the floor; his tuxedo lay discarded beside it. Their bodies tangled on the bed, every kiss, every touch carving them deeper into forbidden territory.

For hours, there was nothing but the taste of him, the sound of her name whispered like a vow, the shiver of her skin under his hands. They lost themselves in each other as if the world beyond the suite had ceased to exist.

When it ended, Elena lay curled against him, the sheets tangled around their limbs. Adrian's chest rose and fell beneath her cheek, his arm resting heavily across her waist. The silence between them was thick, weighted with unspoken truths neither dared to voice.

At last, Adrian spoke, his voice low. "I should tell you this was a mistake."

Her throat tightened. She rolled slightly away, clutching the sheet to her chest. "It was."

"But if I said that," he murmured, pulling her back against him, "I'd be lying."

Her heart ached at the tenderness in his tone. Dangerous tenderness. The kind that didn't belong to her.

"Elena," he said softly, "I don't know what happens next. But I know this... I can't pretend tonight never happened."

She closed her eyes, torn between the warmth of his words and the sharp edge of reality. She couldn't afford to believe him. Not when he belonged to someone else. Not when his world was built on foundations she had no place in.

By dawn, Elena slipped quietly from the suite. Her heels clicked on marble like echoes of guilt, her hair tousled, her lips still tingling from his kiss. She didn't dare look back except she did.

Through the tall window on the landing, she caught a shadowed figure. Adrian, standing motionless, watching her go. His silhouette was sharp against the pale morning light, his expression unreadable, but the weight of his gaze followed her all the way out.

She pressed a trembling hand to her chest. Forget him. Forget tonight. But already, she knew she couldn't.

Across the estate, in a wing untouched by the night's fire, Cassandra Knight stirred awake. She reached instinctively for the other side of the bed, her manicured hand brushing over cool sheets. Empty.

Her eyes opened slowly.

The clock ticked loudly in the silence.

Her gaze swept to the door, her breath sharpening. Adrian never left the marital bed without reason. Never.

Something twisted in her chest. She sat upright, clutching the silk sheets. Her reflection in the mirror across the room stared back at her perfect, poised, but in that moment, sharpened with suspicion.

Cassandra Knight did not believe in coincidence.

And if her husband thought he could hide secrets from her... he was about to learn just how wrong he was.