I Kissed a Stranger to Make My Ex Jealous—He Turned Out to Be a Mafia Boss

The Truth About Adrian Markov

Adrian's car was a black sedan with tinted windows, driven by a man with a shaved head and a scar on his cheek. He didn't speak, just nodded when Adrian opened the door for me.

We drove through the city in silence. The streets grew quieter, the buildings taller, until we stopped in front of a penthouse that overlooked the river. Adrian led me inside. The apartment was all glass and steel, cold but beautiful, with a view that made me gasp.

"This is where you live?" I asked.

"One of my homes," he said. "You will be safe here. There are guards on every floor."

I wandered to the window, staring at the lights of the city below. "I never asked what you do exactly."

"I own things," he said. "Ports. Warehouses. Some businesses that other men prefer not to handle themselves. I am not a good man, Cammy."

"I didn't ask for a saint," I said quietly.

He came to stand beside me. "You should sleep. Tomorrow, I will meet with my enemies. You will stay here, under guard."

"What if they come for me?"

"They won't." He said it with such certainty that I almost believed him.

"And what about Trevor?" I asked. "He'll tell everyone he can. He'll try to ruin me."

"He won't." Adrian's voice was flat. "He knows better now."

I turned to face him. "What did you do?"

"I had a conversation with him after you left." Adrian's lips curved into a smile. "He won't bother you again."

I should have felt relief. Instead, I felt a chill. "You scared him."

"I reminded him of his priorities."

"And Harper?"

"She is not your concern."

I took a breath. "I want to go home. I can't stay here forever."

"You won't have to," he said. "The men who are after me are not after you. Once they see I don't care about you, they'll lose interest."

"But you said they'd kill me."

"That was before I knew you." He looked at me, his gray eyes softening. "Now I know you are not a pawn. You are a woman who made a brave mistake. I won't let you pay for it."

I didn't know what to say. So I said the only thing that made sense. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet," he said. "There is a price for my protection."

"What is it?"

"You will tell me your story," he said. "The real one. Not the version you tell yourself."

I sat on the couch, and he sat across from me. And I told him everything. About Trevor, about Harper, about the years of small betrayals I'd ignored. I told him about the night I caught them, about the text from Harper, about the way Trevor had blamed me for being too focused on my career.

Adrian listened without interrupting. When I finished, he said, "He was never worthy of you."

"I know that now."

"What will you do?"

"I don't know." I looked at him. "I don't have a plan. I don't even have a job anymore—I quit last month to start my own business, but I'm scared to fail."

"You won't fail," he said. "You are too stubborn."

I laughed, a real laugh. "Maybe."

The next morning, Adrian was gone before I woke. A guard brought me breakfast, and I ate alone on the terrace, watching the city come to life. I felt untethered, floating.

At noon, Adrian returned. He looked tired, but there was a calmness in his eyes. "It is done," he said.

"What's done?"

"The men who threatened you are no longer a threat."

I didn't ask what that meant. I didn't want to know. "Can I go home?"

"Yes." He handed me a phone. "But take this. If you ever need me, press the button."

I took it, my fingers brushing his. "Will I see you again?"

"I hope not," he said, but he was smiling. "I hope you never need a man like me again."

"I didn't need you," I said. "I chose you."

He looked at me for a long moment. Then he pulled me into a hug, his arms strong and warm. "Be careful, malaya."

"I will."

He let me go, and I walked out of his penthouse and into the sunlight. The city was the same, but I was different. I had kissed a stranger, and in doing so, I had found myself.

Two weeks later, I was in my new office, surrounded by boxes, when my phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number: "Heard you're starting a business. Good luck. —A."

I smiled, and for the first time in months, I felt hope.

I never saw Adrian Markov again. But I heard about him sometimes, in whispers, in news reports that never named him. And every time I passed a bar, every time I saw a man with gray eyes, my heart skipped a beat.

I had kissed a dangerous man on a whim. And he had saved me, not from my enemies, but from myself.

And that was enough.