By the time Adrian returned to the penthouse, sunrise was beginning to bleed pale gray across Manhattan.

His ribs burned.

Blood soaked slowly through the bandage hidden beneath his black shirt.

And the ledger inside the waterproof bag suddenly felt heavier than bodies.

The private elevator opened into silence.

Too much silence.

Adrian stepped into the penthouse cautiously, one hand already near the handgun beneath his coat while instinct scanned the apartment automatically.

No broken locks.

No overturned furniture.

No visible breach.

But something still felt wrong.

Then he saw her.

Valentina stood barefoot inside the kitchen wearing one of his dark hoodies again, arms crossed tightly while cold coffee sat untouched beside her on the marble counter.

She looked furious.

Good.

Fury meant alive.

The second her eyes landed on him, relief flashed briefly across her face before disappearing beneath anger almost instantly.

“There you are.”

Adrian closed the elevator quietly behind him. “You should be asleep.”

“You disappeared for six hours.”

“I was working.”

“There it is again,” she snapped sharply. “That answer.”

Adrian exhaled once slowly and removed his coat carefully to hide the bloodstain spreading beneath it.

Too late.

Valentina noticed immediately.

Her expression changed.

“Jesus Christ.”

“It’s not serious.”

“That sentence means absolutely nothing coming from you anymore.”

She crossed the kitchen toward him before he could argue further, grabbing his wrist hard enough to stop him from moving away.

Warm fingers.

Angry touch.

Dangerous combination.

“You’re bleeding.”

“I noticed.”

Valentina shoved him backward lightly toward one of the kitchen stools. “Sit down.”

“Valentina—”

“Sit.”

Adrian obeyed before realizing he had.

That irritated him more than it should have.

The penthouse remained wrapped in dim morning light while rain continued streaking the massive windows overlooking Manhattan. Somewhere far below, the city had already started waking up again.

Valentina opened the medical kit from beneath the sink with the familiarity of someone who’d done this too many times before.

Interesting.

“You keep getting shot,” she muttered while pulling gauze and antiseptic onto the counter.

“You keep noticing.”

“That’s because you leave blood everywhere.”

Adrian watched her quietly as she moved back toward him.

Tired.

Beautiful.

Furious.

And increasingly dangerous to care about.

Valentina stopped directly in front of him and reached for the buttons of his black shirt.

Adrian caught her wrist instantly.

The movement froze both of them.

Her pulse fluttered lightly beneath his fingers.

His grip tightened automatically before he released her again.

Too slow.

Always too slow lately.

“You don’t need to do this,” he said quietly.

Valentina stared directly into his eyes. “That’s not your decision.”

Then she unbuttoned the shirt anyway.

Adrian forced himself not to react visibly as cool air hit bruised skin and fresh bandages beneath the fabric.

The graze across his ribs looked ugly enough now under the kitchen lighting.

Valentina’s jaw tightened immediately.

“You said it wasn’t serious.”

“It isn’t.”

“You have an alarming relationship with bodily harm.”

“You have an alarming relationship with dangerous men.”

“Fair.”

For several moments, only silence and rain filled the kitchen while she cleaned dried blood carefully from the wound.

Adrian watched her hands instead.

Smaller than his.

Steadier than expected.

She didn’t flinch at scars anymore either.

That worried him.

“You’re angry,” he observed quietly.

Valentina laughed once beneath her breath.

“Oh, excellent observation. Maybe the blood loss sharpened your instincts.”

Adrian almost smiled.

Almost.

She pressed fresh gauze harder against the wound.

Pain flashed sharply through his ribs.

“That felt intentional.”

“It was.”

Interesting.

Valentina secured the bandage firmly before stepping backward toward the counter again.

Then she noticed the waterproof document bag partially visible beneath his discarded coat.

Her eyes narrowed instantly.

“What is that?”

Adrian’s expression hardened automatically.

Wrong reaction.

Valentina noticed immediately.

“You disappeared all night carrying classified-looking murder paperwork and came home bleeding,” she said slowly. “That feels suspicious even by our standards.”

“It’s nothing.”

“That’s definitely a lie.”

Adrian stood carefully from the stool despite the pain pulling sharply through his side. “Drop it.”

“No.”

The answer came instantly.

Without hesitation.

Without fear.

God help him, she was becoming impossible to control.

Valentina folded her arms tightly. “You disappear constantly, refuse to explain anything, then expect me not to question mysterious secret files?”

“They’re not your problem.”

“That stopped being true weeks ago.”

She stepped closer now.

Not intimidated.

Never intimidated enough.

“What happened tonight?”

Adrian looked away toward the rain-covered windows.

Wrong move.

Again.

Valentina’s voice sharpened immediately. “Someone tried to kill you.”

Silence.

“You killed someone.”

More silence.

“And whatever’s inside that bag is important enough that you’d rather bleed out than talk about it.”

Adrian’s jaw tightened.

Every instinct screamed at him to shut this down.

Distance.

Control.

Mission first.

But Valentina kept looking at him like she could see through walls.

Through lies.

Through him.

“You should stop asking questions,” he muttered.

She laughed softly.

No humor in it.

“You know what I’m starting to hate about you?”

Adrian looked back toward her carefully. “There’s a list?”

“You keep deciding what I can handle.” Her eyes burned now beneath the dim kitchen lights. “You lie constantly, disappear whenever things become dangerous, then come back bleeding like I’m supposed to accept it quietly.”

“I’m trying to keep you alive.”

“I didn’t ask for protection.”

“No,” Adrian replied quietly. “You just keep standing near gunfire anyway.”

The tension in the kitchen sharpened instantly.

Rain hammered harder against the windows while sunrise slowly painted gold across the skyline beyond them.

Valentina stepped closer again.

Too close now.

“You know what the worst part is?” she asked softly.

Adrian didn’t answer.

“You look at me like you care.” Her voice lowered dangerously. “Then spend every second afterward pretending you don’t.”

The words hit harder than bullets.

Because they were true.

Adrian’s control slipped briefly then.

Tiny fracture.

Enough.

“You think this is easy for me?” he asked quietly.

Valentina blinked once.

Probably because that sounded dangerously close to honesty.

Adrian stepped toward her now too.

Close enough to feel heat between them.

Close enough to smell coffee and silk and the faint trace of her perfume lingering beneath his hoodie.

“You think I enjoy lying to you?” he continued softly. “You think I enjoy walking back into this apartment wondering whether somebody already got to you first?”

Valentina’s breathing changed slightly.

He noticed immediately.

Always.

“You don’t get to act protective while hiding the truth,” she whispered.

“You don’t get to make me care about you.”

Silence crashed hard between them afterward.

Real silence.

The dangerous kind.

Valentina stared up at him beneath the soft kitchen lighting while tension pulled tighter and tighter between their bodies.

Neither stepped back.

That was the problem.

Her voice came quieter now.

“Too late.”

Something inside Adrian snapped softly at those words.

Not violently.

Worse.

He reached for her without thinking.

Valentina’s hand caught his shirt instantly.

And suddenly there was almost no space left between them.

Heat.

Breathing.

Anger twisting slowly into something far more dangerous.

Adrian’s hand settled against her waist while her fingers tightened in the fabric near his chest.

Neither looked away.

Not this time.

His forehead nearly brushed hers when the first gunshot shattered the penthouse windows.