Chapter 8 - Shadows on the Lake
By late evening, the storm clouds had cleared, leaving the night sky over Chicago pitch-black and glittering with distant stars.
Emma stood on the private cantilevered balcony of the River North loft, a glass of sparkling mineral water in her hand, watching the lights of the historic Wrigley Building reflect off the dark, churning surface of the Chicago River.
The wind was sharp, carrying the unmistakable chill of an approaching northern winter, but she didn't shiver.
Footsteps approached softly behind her. A warm, heavy wool coat settled over her shoulders, followed by the familiar scent of cedarwood and clean cotton as Adrian wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, pulling her back against his chest.
"You were ruthless in there today," Adrian murmured against her hair, a low rumble of amusement in his chest.
"I was efficient," Emma corrected, leaning back into his embrace. "Marcus Sterling is going to spend the next ten years explaining to his board why he trusted a mid-level litigation hack from Wacker Drive."
"Ryan is currently working as a night manager at a 24-hour parking garage near O'Hare," Adrian noted casually.
Emma turned slightly in his arms, her eyes widening in surprise. "Really? How do you know that?"
"Jin-woo drove by in his rental car this afternoon and saw him directing a minivan into a slot in the rain," Adrian said, a faint smile touching his lips. "Jin-woo tried to tip him twenty bucks, but Ryan threw a traffic cone at the windshield."
Emma let out a bright, genuine laugh that echoed off the brick walls of the courtyard below. "Oh, karma has a magnificent sense of timing."
Adrian turned her around so she was facing him, his hands resting securely on her waist. The city lights caught the dark, intense planes of his face, softening the hard edges that the business world always saw.
"You know," Adrian said softly, his thumbs tracing the line of her hip through the wool coat, "when I first saw you across that conference room table two years ago—angry, exhausted, carrying three boxes of subpoena records because your boss tried to frame you—I knew you belonged here."
Emma reached up, her fingers resting against the lapel of his sweater, feeling the steady, powerful beat of his heart underneath.
"You didn't even know my last name," she whispered.
"I didn't care about your name," Adrian replied. "I cared about your mind. And the fact that you weren't afraid of the dark."
May you like
Emma smiled, leaning up to press her lips softly against his jawline. "I was terrified, Adrian. I just knew how to hide it better than Ryan did."
"Well," Adrian murmured, his lips brushing hers in the crisp night air, "you don't have to hide anything anymore. The board is ours. The city is ours. And nobody is ever going to ask you why you're standing alone in a gallery again."
