sional, impossible to ignore and somehow, she found herself standing in the sleek marble lobby of one of the most intimidating corporate towers in the city. The air smelled like mon

." He didn't look offended. If anything, he looked intrigued. "You always lead with defiance?" "Only when someone tries to own me." He stepped closer, hands in his pockets. "I'm not trying to own you, Grace. I'm trying to understand you." "Don't." "I can't help it," he said, voice calm but with a dangerous edge of curiosity. "You walk in here like you're already fighting a war, but you don't even know me." "I know enough." "Do you?" His tone softened, but his gaze didn't waver. "Because from where I'm standing, you're angry at your parents, not me." The words hit too close. She hated that he was right. She took a step back, needing space. "Don't analyze me, Mr. Cole." "Adrian," he corrected, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "You can drop the formality." "I'd rather drop this entire meeting." "Then why are you still here?" That one landed. Her throat tightened. "Because I wanted to see what kind of man thinks he can marry a stranger just to make his parents happy." He tilted his head slightly. "And what's your verdict?" "You're exactly what I expected." "And what's that?" "Arrogant. Charming in a rehearsed way. The kind of man who knows he's good-looking and uses it like a weapon." His eyes gleamed. "And yet, you noticed." She blinked. "Excuse me?" "You said I use it like a weapon. That means you saw it." Her cheeks warmed. "Don't flatter yourself." "Wouldn't dream of it," he said lightly, though the corner of his mouth betrayed amusement. "But you're blushing." "I'm furious." "Of course you are." Their eyes locked again sharp, defiant, electric. The tension felt dangerous, like standing too close to a fire and pretending not to feel the heat. He moved behind his desk, giving her a chance to breathe. "Our parents are... old-fashioned," he said. "Th