The first rule was clear.
No emotional involvement.
I repeated it to myself as I stood beside Adrian at the edge of the conference hall, watching him speak with investors who smiled too easily and listened too carefully.
He was brilliant at this.
Confident. Untouchable. The kind of man people leaned toward without realizing they were doing it.
Including the man standing far too close to him now.
The guy laughed at something Adrian said—too loud, too familiar. His hand brushed Adrian's arm as if it belonged there.
Something twisted in my chest.
I shifted my weight, annoyed at myself. This was nothing. This was part of the world Adrian lived in. People gravitated toward him. Admired him.
Wanted him.
The thought landed sharper than I expected.
Adrian glanced over, his eyes flicking to mine for just a second.
Then—unexpectedly—he stepped away from the man and came toward me.
His hand found my wrist.
Not my back.
Not my shoulder.
My wrist.
A private touch.
"You okay?" he asked quietly.
Too quietly.
"I'm fine," I said.
He didn't let go.
Someone nearby glanced at us. Adrian adjusted smoothly, pulling me closer, his hand sliding from my wrist to my fingers—interlacing them.
It looked natural.
It felt anything but.
"You're gripping your glass like it might shatter," he murmured, lips close to my ear. "Relax."
I swallowed. "You didn't have to do that."
"Yes, I did," he replied. "You're my partner tonight."
Partner.
The word echoed longer than it should have.
The investor from before watched us with open curiosity now. Whatever interest he'd had in Adrian faded as he took in the scene.
Good, a traitorous part of me thought.
The realization startled me.
When the crowd shifted, Adrian guided me toward a quieter corner. The lights dimmed slightly here, the music softer.
"You don't like these events," he said.
"I didn't say that."
"You don't have to."
He studied me in a way that felt different from before—not assessing, not calculating.
Concerned.
"That man earlier," I said before I could stop myself. "He seemed… familiar."
Adrian's expression cooled. Just a little.
"He's nothing."
The relief that rushed through me was immediate—and damning.
I looked away. "I wasn't asking."
He stepped closer. Too close for safety. Too close for rules.
"You were," he said quietly.
Silence stretched between us, heavy with things neither of us should say.
"This is exactly what we're not supposed to do," I muttered.
"What?" he asked.
"Notice things. Care."
Adrian exhaled slowly. "I noticed you were uncomfortable."
"That's different."
"Is it?"
His gaze dropped to my mouth for half a second before lifting again.
The moment cracked open something fragile inside me.
"I don't get jealous," I said, forcing the words out. "So don't flatter yourself."
A faint smile touched his lips. Not amused. Not kind.
"Good," he said. "Because I don't belong to you."
The words should have reassured me.
Instead, they hurt.
We stood there, inches apart, pretending the space between us was harmless.
Then Adrian stepped back.
"We should rejoin the others," he said, tone carefully neutral.
The spell broke.
Later, in the car, neither of us spoke.
As I reached for the door, Adrian said my name.
"Ethan."
I paused.
"That hand-holding," he said. "It won't happen again."
I nodded. "Of course."
But when I stepped out into the night, my fingers still remembered the shape of his.
And I knew—deep down—that the rule we'd broken wasn't the touch.
It was the way neither of us wanted to let it go.