BEHIND CLOSE DOORS

The silence in the mansion was suffocating.

Elena leaned back against the plush headboard, her eyes fixed on the golden chandelier above her, its light casting soft glimmers over the expensive sheets. She shifted, the silk of her nightgown sliding up her thighs, exposing smooth skin. A sigh slipped past her lips, heavy with loneliness.

Down the hall, she knew her husband was locked away in his study, his voice probably raised on another late-night phone call. Richard had a way of making her feel like a beautiful ornament-something to look at, something to display, but never something to hold.

She pressed her palm against the empty side of the bed. Cold. Untouched.

The sharp crunch of tires on gravel outside startled her. Her head turned toward the window, and through the sheer curtains she saw the beams of headlights sweep across the driveway. A sleek black car rolled to a stop near the garage.

Her breath caught.

He was here.

Adrian.

Richard's son. Her stepson.

Elena hadn't seen him in nearly two years-not since he'd left for university. Back then he'd been lean, almost boyish, with too much restless energy and a sharp tongue he often turned on his father. She remembered his smirks, his careless charm, the occasional glint in his eyes when he looked at her in ways he shouldn't have.

Now, as the front door opened and his deep voice floated through the quiet house, she knew something was different.

Her bare feet whispered against the polished wood floor as she descended the sweeping staircase. She paused halfway down, her hand curling tightly around the banister, and her breath hitched.

The boy she remembered was gone.

Adrian stood in the foyer with the kind of presence that filled the space. Broad shoulders stretched his black shirt, his jeans hugged lean hips, and his tousled dark hair fell just enough to shadow his sharp jawline. A duffel bag hung from one strong arm, and when he lifted his head, his gaze locked with hers.

Elena's pulse stumbled.

"Hello, Elena," he said, his voice smooth and low, carrying an edge of something... dangerous.

Her lips parted. "Adrian. I didn't know you were coming tonight."

"Surprise," he drawled, his mouth curving into a slow smirk. His eyes slid over her-over the silk straps clinging to her shoulders, the soft dip of her neckline, the bare length of her legs. He didn't look away.

Heat flared in her chest. She tugged at the hem of her nightgown instinctively, guilt knotting inside her stomach. "You should have called. Your father-"

"-is busy in his study," Adrian finished, his smirk deepening. "Still married to his work, I see."

The truth stung more than it should have. Elena swallowed. "Yes. He... he didn't mention you were coming."

"I wanted to surprise him." Adrian set his bag down, straightened, and stepped closer. His scent drifted toward her-masculine, warm, with a faint trace of leather and musk. "And you."

Her throat tightened. "I'll, um... show you to your room."

She turned quickly, hoping to compose herself, but every step up the staircase seemed to echo. She was suddenly too aware of the way her hips swayed beneath the silk fabric, too aware of his eyes burning into her back as he followed.

When she reached the guest room, she pushed the door open, her hand lingering on the knob. "Here you are," she said softly, forcing a smile.

Adrian tossed his bag onto the bed without looking away from her. He leaned lazily against the post, his arms folding over his chest, muscles shifting beneath his shirt.