Chapter 7 - Rhiannon
Rhiannon's heart raced as she navigated the streets, the adrenaline from her escape blending with a tumultuous cocktail of trepidation and lust. The electric tension between her and Adrian had ignited something primal within her—something that bordered on dangerous. Once again, she felt the weight of the world pressing against her, but the instinct to flee outweighed everything else. As exhilarating as their exchanges had been, they left her feeling vulnerable and exposed, flaying her insecurities wide open. The thought of being owned by anyone, especially him, twisted inside her like a knife.
Figuring it was unlikely that Adrian would put a tracker on his own car, she'd broken into the silver Camaro in their underground parking garage and then driven it to the one place she knew no one would ever find her: a warehouse she had owned in secret since moving back to Chicago. It was her sanctuary and safety net, containing all the things that represented the independence she had fought so hard to maintain. It wasn't just a hiding spot; it was a statement. No one owned her. Not her father, not the Bratva, and certainly not her new husband.
As she parked the car inside, determination surged through her. The warehouse was equipped with the best security and housed a small safe house that could easily hold Adrian's car alongside her Maserati. The car everyone thought was still getting fixed. It also contained her collection of custom weapons—a testament to her autonomy. She wasn't planning to stay here indefinitely, but a night away felt necessary, a defiant act against the new life she had been thrust into. She'd spent more time on this place in the past few months than ever before, her instincts screaming that something bigger was coming. Bigger than her father sending her to boarding school just to get rid of her. She didn't know why she hadn't listened to them. Maybe she wouldn't be in this position if she had.
Abandoning the car, Rhiannon settled into the safe house as exhaustion washed over her. Now that she could finally relax, it wasn't long before she fell asleep, her mind flickering between thoughts of Adrian and the fiery exchanges they had shared. She still couldn't believe he hadn't taken her up on what she'd offered him. What man didn't want to fuck as soon as he could? Much to her disgust, the dreams that invaded her rest reflected the things she felt when he had pushed her against the wall, or when he'd watched her spread her legs on the table. She whimpered in her sleep, fingers drifting down to her thighs as she squirmed around on her bed. When her eyes flickered open, she moaned under her breath, tired and hot, teetering on the cusp of something she'd rather die than admit. Still high on the dreams of Adrian's coiled body balancing over hers and the imaginings of the low, animalistic noises he might make in her ear—grumbles of her name like he'd murmured when his nose slid against her neck earlier—Rhiannon began to touch. Heat flickered between her legs, and her throat bobbed as sweat dotted her skin.
The one thing her warehouse lacked was air conditioning, not that she cared about that at that specific moment. Moaning softly again, she slipped her fingers over her clit, rubbing until sparks lit up her vision and her thighs tightened sweetly.
An orgasm loomed closer, thoughts of his ice-blue eyes and white-blonde hair haunting her—but before she could get anywhere, a sudden noise interfered with her concentration, dragging her out of the moment and into the present.
Heart hammering in her chest, she strained to listen, recognizing the sound of a door opening. Panic clawed at her throat, and for a few harrowing moments, she couldn't make sense of what was happening. And then she saw him—Adrian, glaring down at her with that unmistakable mix of annoyance and amusement. His gaze flickered to where her hand was still frozen, and hunger darkened his expression.
"Don't pause on my account," he drawled, leaning against the wall with crossed arms, and in her still-sleepy daze, she nearly did continue.
Her fingers curled under his darkening gaze, and her mouth parted as a moan got stuck in her throat. Then he took a step forward, and Rhiannon's fight-or-flight kicked in. She snatched her hand away and tried to stumble out of bed—tried being the operative word because Adrian grabbed her the second she moved.
"Put me down!" she yelled, futilely pounding her fists against his back, but he remained steadfast, moving gracefully despite her struggles.
"Please, Adrian. Put me down." This was so goddamned embarrassing, her cheeks burned. She'd almost… and he'd been watching … she didn't know what to think other than the fact that she had to get out of there, and soon.
"No," he snapped, his palm landing on her ass with a sharp smack that shouldn't have tightened her core like it did. "Not if you're going to try and run away again."
Stilled by the grip around her waist, Rhiannon began swearing, punching, and kicking at him, desperate to assert her space. Maybe then she could pretend this hadn't happened, and that she wasn't slowly growing more turned on by being him being so domineering. Her struggles managed to free her enough that she stumbled to the ground—but Adrian remained unfazed. He simply gathered her around her legs and lifted her over his shoulder again, carrying her like a caveman.
"I won't!" she shouted, giving up and hating that she meant it. Her body slumped over his shoulder, she felt defeated. And turned on. She ignored that last bit. "I didn't mean to anyway."
Adrian dumped her back on the bed, and she glared up at him.
It was infuriating; she couldn’t help but feel both furious and absurdly excited at the same time. Her face burned from the embarrassment of being caught—and in that position, no less. Humiliation sent a jolt of warmth through her veins, she wished she didn't feel it. She wished it didn't make her heart race for all the wrong reasons.
"Why did you do it then?" he asked, his voice low, a question laced with something deeper.
It struck her in that moment how dangerously intertwined they had become, like flames desperate to synchronize in their flickering dance. She felt cornered, not just by the physical space between them but by the emotional weight creeping into every exchange.
"Because your presence makes me feel like everything I had is slipping away," she admitted, swallowing hard, her breath hitching under the intensity of his gaze.
"You think I'm a threat?" Adrian challenged softly, stepping closer despite the attempt she made to add more distance between them. The air warmed with raw intent, something deep and wild simmering beneath the surface.
He was a threat, she thought stubbornly.
"I'm not a threat to you, Rhiannon."
"I didn't say that," she snapped back, hating that he could somehow read her, and trying to regain her composure. The heat in his gaze softened her, and she glared at the floor instead. "I know you're not a threat." Not to her health or body, at least. Just from how he'd acted since this whole damn arrangement had started, she knew he wasn't going to hurt her in that way.
"Then what are you afraid of?" he asked, his voice coaxing.
"Nothing!" She glared at him, wishing he could just drop dead.
A low, rumbling chuckle answered her as he crawled atop her on the bed. "Does this scare you?" he teased, running a hand up her side. The wedding dress was a crumpled mess in the bathroom, and she'd been running hot thanks to the adrenaline. Because of that, Rhiannon had pulled on her usual crop top and shorts to sleep in. A part of her regretted that as she felt the heat of his hand running along her side.
"I'm not afraid of you, Adrian." Her face burned, and Rhiannon glared at the wall behind him. He continued to touch, and the look on his face made it feel like he couldn't help it. Like he couldn't resist—she was forced to wander if it was because of what he'd walked in on.
"Stop it," she said, feeling tired. She didn't know why, but she knew he would. And he did, pulling away enough that she could squirm out from under him. Something about that tugged at her heart strings, and before she even knew it, Rhiannon felt herself admitting the truth. Her throat bobbed, and the words she spoke were quiet." You're a reminder that this—whatever this is—has already taken too much from me."
Adrian's smirk faltered, and for a heartbeat, reality made itself known. Rhiannon was teetering on the edge, caught between a dangerous game and a desire she hadn't been prepared to face.
"So, what is it that you want?" he asked, still leaning onto the bed slightly as she pulled back until her spine met the headboard. Almost as if he was challenging her to relinquish her tight grip on whatever measure of control she thought she had, pushing her even closer to the precipice.
She wasn't sure how to answer that, but something told her he already knew. All she could focus on was the rapid pounding in her chest, stirred by his unwavering gaze—alluring and unsettling. He drew even nearer, not touching but advancing all the same. It felt like he was testing her. Mere inches away, the heat radiating from him merged with that which was boiling under her skin. He was the flame, and she was a moth drawn far too close. Rhiannon wrapped her arms around her knees and met his stare dead on. She couldn't ever remember being this terrified of getting burned.
"I want…" She faltered, thrown off-kilter by the intensity radiating off him. "I want to feel in control." She'd had far too much taken from her already.
"Control? You think I'm trying to take it from you?" Adrian asked, so close that she could see each fleck of mischief in his deep-set eyes. "Or are you just afraid of what you might really want? Because I'll tell you a secret, Rhiannon… the harder you fight, the more thrilling it becomes."
Adrian reached out, lightly brushing a finger along her arm, the touch igniting a wildfire beneath her skin. The familiarity of his touch left Rhiannon's breath caught in her throat, her instincts screaming at her to flee again, yet a part of her was compelled to stay—drawn to the addictive tension between them.
"It's too easy to get lost in the idea of what we want versus what we need," she murmured, sliding off the bed, desperate to create distance before that connection ensnared her completely. "And right now, I just need to think."
He followed her, because of course he would. Misplaced laughter bubbled in her chest as the dance continued around her bedroom.
"If that were the case, you could've done that at the apartment." Adrian leaned closer, challenging in ways she had never seen before, yet the way he said it hinted at an intimacy she wasn't ready for. "No, Princess, you're not here because you want to think. You're here because you want to escape. I can help you with that, but I can't help you run away."
That was it—something in her snapped. Rhiannon shook her head, determined not to become another pawn in the game.
"Forget it."
That instinct to flee took over her body again, and she turned sharply and rushed for the door, adrenaline surging through her veins. She flung open the bedroom door, racing through the warehouse without looking back, her heartbeat echoing in her ears like war drums. She had to escape before the temptation to stay consumed her whole.
Adrian was fast, though. She hadn't made it far when she heard him call out after her, his voice a potent mixture of confusion and frustration. "Rhiannon, where are you going? You said you weren't going to run."
"You think I need your permission?" she shot back, feeling powerful despite the fluttering dimensions of fear coiling in her stomach.
"You know you don't," he said as she burst through the garage, navigating her way past her shelves of weapons. Rage and resolve propelled her forward—an unyielding determination coursing through her as the glint of the metal doors shone under the fluorescent lights as she hurried to her sanctuary, the Camaro.
She could feel his prowling presence, and more than just anxiety fluttered in her stomach as she closed the distance between herself and the car.
"You're better than this," Adrian purred and as she reached for the door handle, she felt the world drop away. Rhiannon squeaked, she couldn't help it, the sound just slipped out. She'd been in the process of swinging the door open to climb inside when Adrian's voice rang out behind her, tauntingly close. "You can do much better than hiding away."
"Fuck off!" she yelled in frustration, trying to slam the door shut. She could damn well hide if she wanted too! But Adrian was too quick, a flash of movement as he lunged toward her, grabbing the door with a grip that felt both possessive and infuriatingly intimate.
"Rhiannon," he said, his voice low and cool, a chuckle laced within as he leaned into the car, blocking her access and stealing her breath. She hadn't expected him to follow her, hadn't anticipated how quickly he'd close the gap.
"Haven't you already realized that you're not getting away that easily?"
The tension hung between them, crackling and raw. Rhiannon's heart pounded furiously, caught between anger and an all-consuming attraction that threatened to tear her apart.
"You're insufferable," she hissed, but the words lacked the cutting edge she had intended.
"Maybe," he said, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "But you're attached to me now—whether you like it or not."
Rhiannon let out another squeak as he picked her up again, the sound turning irritable when he dropped her into the passenger seat of his Camaro. Adrian slipped the seatbelt on her and then slammed the door while she was still too stunned to process.
Ten minutes later, they arrived back at his block of apartments, and Rhiannon had to endure the indignity of being carried all the way to the top.
"I can walk," she said, her heart hammering furiously.
"I wouldn't want to put you out," he drawled, his voice deep and gruff in a way that made her thighs clench. Damn it, after all those dreams, she couldn't shake the image of him thrusting into her out of her mind. Those muscles coiled like they were now, but with an entirely different tension than the frustration he was currently brimming with.
Once inside the apartment, he set her down, and she wasted no time storming straight for the bedroom, slamming the door behind her. She was furious about the whole thing and intended to sulk in peace. And even though it took her ages to fall asleep after his ominous promise, she eventually drifted off surprisingly well.
***
When she awoke, disoriented but alert, Rhiannon assumed Adrian had either not come to bed at all or had left early, as there was no evidence of him having spent the night next to her. Brushing off the remnants of sleep, she figured that he might've slept on the couch like he had before. Without questioning it any further, Rhiannon headed to the bathroom, only realizing what she'd stepped into when a deep, masculine moan filtered through the sleepy haze and woke her right up.
Suddenly alert and standing idly in the middle of the bathroom, Rhiannon gaped. None of her dreams had given her husband's body any justice, she realized, as the previous night's unsuccessful orgasm flooded her body with tension.
Water flicking against his fair skin, Adrian leaned against the shower tiles and met her eyes with a wicked grin, and let out a thick groan as he fisted his cock. Rhiannon blinked, half certain he was teasing her, while the other half couldn't help but stare at every single part of him on display. Every inch of him was a reminder of the attraction she’d fought so hard to deny, yet here he was, presenting himself with that Cheshire cat grin that threatened to unravel her resolve.
"Miss me, Gorgeous?" he said lightly, his voice dripping with a teasing undertone that made her pulse quicken. Or no, maybe it was the way he was stroking himself one-handedly, his fingers firmly tugging at his erection until precum dripped from the head of it.
Rhiannon wanted to scoff, to throw some sarcastic remark back at him, but instead, she felt a heat brewing beneath her skin, filling her cheeks with color.
"You shouldn't have barged in like that," he chastised, not even attempting to sound irritated, she realized as a part of her savored the view. The way his muscles rippled with his every movement was a sight she couldn't easily shake.
"The door was unlocked," she mumbled distractedly, her bottom lip pinched between her teeth as his eyes darkened.
"Pity," he said roughly, fingers moving languidly over himself. "Enjoying the view?"
Yes, her mind answered, and not that she would ever admit it, but that small part of her sounded just as whiny and breathless as Rhiannon knew her voice would be if she said anything at all.
So, she kept quiet instead.
"Is that what you normally wear to bed?" he asked, amusement dancing in his voice as he gestured toward the itsy-bitsy pajamas clinging to her skin. "It looks more like workout gear."
She looked down at her clothes again, it was just a sports bra and shorts. Nothing special, though it showed off a lot of skin, something she'd realized after she got over the embarrassment of him catching her with her hand… Oh, god, and now he… and his hand.
"What’s it to you?" she shot back, defiance lacing her words as she faced him once more, but she could feel the heat creeping back in, striking a balance between embarrassment and indignation. It wasn't something she'd worn before, too scared about what he'd do—though she knew now, she'd been silly for evening thinking Adrian would ever do that to her. He seemed to prefer taunting her.
"It shows off your assets beautifully," he said, his grin widening. The confidence that rolled off him was like a dangerous tide sweeping her closer to the shore.
"All the better to distract a caveman," she quipped back with a roll of her eyes, treating his compliment like a weight she couldn't bear. But inwardly, she was fuming, and the last thing she needed was to admit that she enjoyed his attention—even as it made her skin tingle with anticipation.
"Nothing better than a pretty view to fuck myself to," he said in a deeper voice, shoulder bunching as he did exactly that. Fucked himself. "You're welcome to join me if you want. God only knows how desperate you were last night…" his voice trailed off as he tutted. "Bet your pretty pussy feels really left out."
Rhiannon swallowed hard, her eyes drawn to his reddening cock. Her focus did something to him, and Rhiannon's gaze flicked back to his when he let out a hard grunt, hips bucking against his grip. She could tell he was getting close, and even though her whole body throbbed in tune, and she shouldn't have been encouraging it, some wild part of her was begging to see more.
"Tighter," she told him, and Adrian's eyes turned half-lidded and lazy. It felt like staring at a panther, and her heart raced. The instruction was something so hazy that she wasn't even sure she'd said until he groaned loudly. She couldn't believe she'd even said anything… Thank god he didn't ask her to repeat herself.
"Like this?" he said instead, the words forced through clenched teeth as both of his hands settled on his cock and gripped it like she'd said. Tighter.
Her breath disappeared, and more groans seeped through his pinched lips as Rhiannon nodded. Her mouth watered as she watched more precum spew, and Adrian's fingers dragged it over his cock head, fisting and grunting as he fucked himself harder.
Staring at him, she wondered what he was imagining, and without even thinking, she licked her lips.
"FUCK!" Adrian shouted, his whole body bucking as his cock spat cum on the shower door between them, and when his back arched against the wall, Rhiannon felt her own body throb in tune. "FUCK!"
Her thighs clenched as he leaned against the wall, breathing hard. It took a minute, one where her ears rang, and her mouth felt dry, for her to realize that he was still stroking himself, almost like he was dragging it on, body shuddering as he watched her.
"Like I said, you're welcome to join." His words caressed her, and Rhiannon's nipples pebbled as she ached to do exactly that.
"No." She blinked, taking a step back. "No. I'm sorry, that was a mistake."
A devilish smirk curled his lips as he took in the sight of her, "No, Darling, that was fun. Let's do it again sometime."
His casual demeanor was infuriating, and it grated on Rhiannon's nerves. She huffed, turning her back to him, but his presence was like a magnet drawing her in. She could feel him watching her, piquing her curiosity, and the mix of emotions only intensified the silence that grew between them.
With determination, she forced herself to focus on her reflection in the mirror, washing her face briskly as she tried to will away the flush still lingering on her cheeks. She resisted the temptation to glance at him again, reminding herself that she was here for a reason.
Yet, as Rhiannon started going through her routine, it became increasingly difficult to ignore him. She focused on brushing her hair, her heart drumming away as she made eye contact with him through the mirror. He wasn't even trying to hide his gaze; his eyes roamed her form, and she felt the scrutiny like a tangible weight. Every glance sent sparks of heat flaring through her body, leaving her breathless.
Rhiannon could only give him a glare through the mirror while inwardly berating herself for allowing frustration to fuel her attraction.
She busied herself with her toothpaste, splashing the cool water on her face again, hoping it would ease her rising temperature. Annoyance and desire twisted together in a tumultuous knot within her. Just when she thought she could escape the impossible tension between them, he had to go and do that.
Her whole body was on high alert as he left the shower, not bothering to wrap a towel around his waist before he joined her at the basin.
Inch by inch, he invaded her personal space, and the tension between them swirled, filling the room with unspoken allure. Rhiannon could sense the simmering lust beneath his teasing glances and posture, and it threatened to drown her. The brush of his body against hers sent electric currents cascading through her, awakening every nerve ending as she fought against her instincts.
A hand settled on her waist as he stopped behind her. It froze her in place. His touch was blistering as he stopped to drag in a breath. His whole body shuddered, and she nearly stepped back into his arms. She wanted to, so much. If she wasn't frozen, she knew she would've.
"You smell good," he murmured as he pressed a kiss to her neck, and before she could respond, he stepped back with an air of casual nonchalance, clearly enjoying the effect he had on her. "Just needed the soap," he murmured, leaning across her to grab a bar of soap that matched the same one she'd seen in the shower. As if he didn't even see the irritated glare she threw his way, he added, "Alina will be here later. You can let her know if there's anything specific you need from the store. Toiletries, clothes."
Her eyes narrowed further as he moved back toward the shower. The shower door closed behind him, and his eyes danced as he turned to face her again.
Who the fuck was Alina? Her hand gripped the bathroom counter behind her, squeezing tight enough to ache. Her father had his assistants, he wasn't shy about fucking them on the side and her mother never said anything. That was just what life was like in the mafia.
Fuck if she'd do the same.
"Stop playing games, Adrian," she called out, desperate to reaffirm her boundaries as her heart raced wildly under the surface, resolute in her decision to fight against the magnetic pull he had on her. "I shouldn't have run away yesterday," she amended when he raised an eyebrow at her. "But if you want us to do this thing together, then stop with the fucking games."
"Who says I'm playing?" he replied, stepping under the spray of water once more, a confident gleam in his eye that sent her heart into a wild dance. Yet, despite her resolve, there was still a burgeoning desire for the complications that came with being drawn to him, complexities that left her enraptured right down to her very core.
Rhiannon's heart raced, and the wetness glistening on his skin made it nearly impossible for her to look away. Each droplet traced over his defined muscles, the steam rising around him creating an almost otherworldly aura that wrapped around her senses, stirring a mix of longing and frustration deep within. The growing tension in the bathroom was palpable, an electric current that had her second-guessing every instinct she'd brought with her—a heady intoxication she couldn't afford to indulge.
"Seriously," she said, forcing herself to maintain an air of defiance. "No more games, it's fucking exhausting." Then, after taking a breath, she stole his line from last night and hoped she managed to pull it off with the same mocking superiority he'd had. "You're better than that."
Adrian turned off the water, a smirk playing on his lips as he stepped out of the shower and reached for a towel. "You say ‘exhausting,' I say ‘entertaining.' It's a matter of perspective." He dried himself off casually, letting her watch him from the corner of her eye, the room thick with unsaid words and simmering attraction.
"Yeah, well, I never signed up for this." The defensiveness in her tone was stronger than her resolve, an attempt to shield herself from the undeniable chemistry that sparked between them.
Adrian draped the towel around his waist, and for the first time, Rhiannon didn't manage to suppress the shiver that ran through her. The tension clawing at her insides made it hard to breathe properly, each inhale trembling with unspent energy.
"Don't worry, Wife," he rumbled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I don't fuck unwilling women. But if you change your mind, just remember to say please."
"I won't," she snapped at his back, unable to resist the urge. Just like she couldn't resist adding, "And if I catch you with another woman, so fucking help me, I'll make you regret it."
Her whole body was bristling as he turned to face her with a cocky expression that told her he thought he'd won. Rhiannon started to panic. That wasn't what—she hadn't meant it like that!
"It's nice to see you care," he teased, approaching her once more, and in her panic, she didn't even bother to step back like she normally wanted to. An arm wrapped around her waist possessively again, and she didn't—couldn't—stop him when he pulled her closer. Adrian dipped his head, stopping a hairsbreadth from her lips, his voice a low, cocky grumble that had her core tightening all over again. "Don't you worry, though, Baby. I can handle my urges just fine without a mistress."
He kissed her before she could sputter a retort, and her heart raced as she opened her mouth up for him.
"Adrian," she murmured, shaking her head as he let her go. Her body cooled far too quickly, and the disappointment she felt distracted her enough to leave her searching for words. "I—"
"Not until you beg, Princess," he teased, and before she could even think to say anything more, to defend herself or explain, he left without a backward glance. A good thing, at least, because it took her another few minutes to gather herself, and it took even longer to find that spark of indignation that Rhiannon knew she should've felt at being manhandled like that. Beg? As if.