You’re too handsome to be alone,” my six-year-old daughter announced in the middle of the executive hallway, staring straight at the coldest billionaire in Manhattan. “I think you should be my daddy.” Every person around us froze, while I stood there absolutely certain my career had just ended.

By 7:00 PM that evening, a private black SUV with tinted windows pulled into the underground garage of an ultra-exclusive high-rise in Tribeca.

I sat in the leather back seat, clutching my handbag while Mia stared out the window in absolute awe. True to his word, Adrian’s personal team had driven to my Brooklyn apartment under heavy guard, packed three suitcases of our clothes and essential belongings, and brought us straight to his residence.

The private elevator zipped silently up to the 50th floor. When the doors opened directly into the penthouse, my jaw dropped.

The space was breathtaking. Floor-to-ceiling glass windows offered an uninterrupted, 360-degree view of the glowing Manhattan skyline and the Hudson River. High ceilings, sleek modern furniture, warm hardwood floors, and original artwork lined the walls. Yet, despite its luxury, the home felt surprisingly warm and lived-in.

"Welcome," Adrian said, stepping out of the elevator behind us and removing his dark wool coat. He looked effortlessly handsome in just his white dress shirt with the top button undone and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

"It's huge!" Mia squealed, running across the polished floor toward the sweeping windows. "Mommy, look! The cars look like tiny yellow bugs down there!"

"Mia, don't run!" I called out nervously, stepping after her.

"Let her explore, Claire," Adrian said with a soft chuckle, placing a reassuring hand on the small of my back. His touch sent a pleasant warmth radiating through my blazer. "Everything in this apartment is child-proofed. My younger sister has twin boys who practically live here on weekends."

I turned to look at him, feeling a sudden wave of self-consciousness. "Adrian... I still feel like we are intruding. You've done so much already. I don't know how I'm ever going to repay you for this."

Adrian stepped closer, his gray-blue eyes holding mine in the soft ambient light of the penthouse.

"You don't need to repay me," he said softly. "For two years, Claire, I watched you work eighty hours a week at my firm. You were brilliant, creative, fierce—and completely closed off from everyone. I always wondered why you built such high walls around yourself."

He reached out, his fingers lightly brushing a strand of hair behind my ear.

"Now that I know you were carrying the world on your shoulders all by yourself... I'm just glad I can help share the weight."

My breath hitched. The professional boundary that had separated us for two years was rapidly dissolving into something dangerously intimate.

Before I could answer, a warm, rich voice called out from the kitchen.

"Dinner is served, Mr. Kane!"

An elderly, warm-faced woman in a pristine white apron stepped into the foyer. "Oh! And you must be little Mia and Claire! Welcome, welcome! I’m Mrs. Higgins. I made fresh spaghetti and homemade garlic bread!"

Mia gasped. "Spaghetti is my absolute favorite!"

Dinner felt surreal. Sitting at a long quartz dining table overlooking the city, eating five-star home-cooked food while Adrian chatted animatedly with my daughter about cartoons and outer space, felt like a scene from an entirely different life. I watched the way Adrian listened to Mia with genuine interest, never talking down to her, laughing at her silly jokes with that deep, melodious laugh.

For six years, it had been just Mia and me against the world. I had convinced myself that we didn't need anyone else—that men were untrustworthy, volatile, and abandoning, just like Julian. But watching Adrian with my child, a tight knot inside my chest that I hadn't even realized was there slowly began to uncoil.

After dinner and a long bath, Mia was completely exhausted. Adrian showed us to the guest wing, which featured a stunning bedroom decorated in soft cream tones with a adjoining bedroom perfect for Mia.

I tucked Mia into bed, pulling the duvet up to her chin. Gerald the elephant was tucked securely under her arm.

"Mommy?" Mia whispered, her eyelids heavy with sleep.

"Yes, sweetie?"

"I like the handsome boss," she murmured softly. "He makes you smile. You haven't smiled like that in a long time."

I kissed her forehead gently, my heart swelling with emotion. "Go to sleep, baby."

I walked quietly out of her room, leaving the door cracked open. The penthouse was quiet now. I walked down the dim hallway toward the main living area, intending to get a glass of water, when I saw a glow coming from the private balcony.

Adrian was standing outside in the cool night air, leaning against the glass railing, holding a glass of scotch. The city lights reflected in his dark hair.

I pulled my cardigan tight around myself and stepped through the sliding glass door.

"She’s fast asleep," I said softly.

Adrian turned around, a gentle smile appearing on his face. "She’s a wonderful kid, Claire. You’ve done an incredible job raising her alone."

"Thank you," I said, walking up to stand beside him at the railing. The wind blew cold against my cheeks, but being near him felt warm. "She was right, you know. Back in the hallway today."

Adrian raised an eyebrow, taking a sip of his scotch. "Oh? About what?"

"About you," I admitted, my cheeks flushing red in the dark. "You are very handsome. And tall."

Adrian let out a soft laugh, setting his glass down on the outdoor table. He turned fully toward me, closing the distance between us until there was barely any space left.

"Is that so?" he whispered, his deep voice thick with unspoken tension. "And what about the other part of her announcement, Claire?"

My heart hammered against my ribs. "Which part?"

"The part where she said I should be her daddy," Adrian murmured, stepping even closer. His hand reached out, cupping the side of my face, his thumb gently tracing my cheekbone. His gray-blue eyes burned into mine with intense desire. "Because for two years, Claire... every time you walked into my office with a stack of campaign files, the only thing I could think about was how much I wanted you in my life."

I gasped. "Adrian..."

"Tell me to stop, and I will," he whispered, his face inches from mine. "Tell me this is just business, and I’ll step back."

I looked at his lips, then back into his eyes. All my fears, all my carefully built walls, crumbled into dust.