Chapter 15 - Rhiannon
The laptop screen glowed, displaying spreadsheets and financial statements, but Rhiannon's focus was far from the numbers. Her mind kept replaying the events of the previous night—the searing intensity of Adrian's touch, the unexpected tenderness in his eyes, the sheer, unadulterated pleasure of their marathon sex session.
It had been intense, a level of intimacy and connection she'd never experienced before. His age and experience showed, of course, but she'd been more than ready for him. She was grateful, honestly. She'd never felt so completely claimed, so utterly seen before. The afterglow lingered, a pleasant warmth that had settled deep in her bones. And if he was sincere about giving her a more significant role in the business—a genuine partnership, not just a convenient alliance—this marriage might actually not be so bad after all.
A sharp knock on the door jolted her back to the present.
Adrian.
He looked…damn, he looked good . Even better than last night, all sharp angles and casual confidence in a simple black t-shirt and jeans, his usually messy blonde hair perfectly styled. The way he filled the bedroom doorway with that smirk on his lips, all casual masculinity and lethal charm, sent a fresh wave of heat through her. The unexpected surge of attraction, the way her pulse quickened at the sight of him… she fought to tamp it down, reminding herself why she was here, why she was doing this. But the feeling remained—a dangerous, thrilling undercurrent that she couldn't quite ignore.
Before she could process her reaction, he closed the gap between them, his lips finding hers in a deep, hungry kiss that stole her breath. It was different this time—less urgent, more deliberate, more…possessive. He tasted of mint and something else, something uniquely him , and the kiss was long and slow, allowing her time to fully drink him in, to lose herself in the heat of the moment.
He finally pulled away, his gaze intense, a smoldering heat that lingered in his eyes.
"We need to talk," he murmured, his voice low and serious. The casualness was gone, replaced by a quiet intensity that sent a fresh wave of apprehension—and a flicker of something else, something more thrilling—through her.
He pulled up one of the armchairs around his massive bedroom, his posture suggesting this wasn't a quick conversation.
"I spoke with your father last night after the dinner," he began, his voice calm, almost too calm. That calmness was a red flag; she knew how much her father hated being interrupted, how he thrived on controlling the narrative. This calm was something else entirely.
"When was that?" she questioned, brow furrowing.
"Before your brothers decided to be assholes," he grunted, shifting to lean back on the chair.
He recounted their conversation, detailing how he'd casually asked about the investigation into her near-kidnapping, only to be met with a dismissive response from her father. Adrian leaned forward, the tension in his voice palpable as he described the moment. "I asked him—just out of concern for you, of course—how the investigation was progressing on the original attack, and his reaction was… unsettling."
Rhiannon's heart raced as she listened, a gnawing sense of dread clawing at her insides. She'd always known her father didn't care for her very much, but that… something wasn't adding up. Did he really not give a shit about her at all?
Adrian continued, his eyes watching her carefully as if he knew how she felt. Her fingers twisted the bedcovers. They'd grown so close, so quickly, it was almost unnerving. "He told me it was 'nothing to worry about,' almost brushing it off like an inconvenient fly buzzing around a light. He claimed it was just a minor incident, something that would resolve itself, and there wasn't much else to say about it."
Rhiannon winced, and his voice softened. "I'm not saying this to hurt you—"
"No, I know," she quickly defended, but he was already up and crossing the room toward her.
"I'm just saying this because it felt so… casual." He crouched by the bed, reaching to close her laptop and set it aside. She let him, her mind racing as her stomach sank.
The way her father had approached the subject made her skin crawl. "That's not how a parent should handle something like this," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.
Adrian nodded, his eyes filled with intensity. "Exactly. It's like he wasn't concerned at all, like your safety was secondary to whatever schemes he had brewing. It lit a fire of suspicion in me. The way he treated it as a minor inconvenience made me question everything about his intentions."
"You think he's hiding something," she said softly, and his Adam's apple bobbed before he nodded.
Her father had always been a master at deflection, a puppeteer pulling strings behind the scenes. But this… this felt different. The nearly casual dismissal of her life, of her safety, twisted in a way that left Rhiannon feeling exposed and vulnerable.
"What does he have to gain by acting like it wasn't serious?" she asked, her voice darkening with suspicion.
Adrian leaned back on his haunches, his expression contemplative as he considered her question. "That's the million-dollar question. Maybe the whole thing was staged, Rhiannon. Perhaps he wanted you to be shaken, to use the drama to gain something he needed."
She shuddered at the implication, her mind racing with possibilities. The thought that her father might be playing a game with her life sent waves of anger coursing through her veins. "It's clear he doesn't see me as anything more than a pawn. He's probably weighing his options, thinking of the best move for himself rather than my well-being."
"Precisely," Adrian affirmed, his tone steady yet urgent. "And that's why we need to dig deeper, figure out what else he's hiding. We can't let him dictate the narrative, not anymore."
Rhiannon nodded, a spark of determination igniting within her. The chilling realization of her father's indifference lit a fire in her gut, urging her to reclaim her life and fight back against the manipulations of those who thought they could control her destiny. Together with Adrian, they could unravel the layers of deceit—she would not remain a pawn in her father's game any longer.
"It was too…nonchalant," she said softly, her thoughts already racing. "What do you think that means?"
Adrian leaned back, a thoughtful expression on his face. "I don't know for sure, but my gut tells me something shady is going on. Your father got everything he wanted with this alliance —his position is seriously improved—and while he hasn't shared the details yet, what else could he be planning?"
The question hung in the air, heavy and unspoken. She knew what he meant; he was hinting at something far bigger than a mere business deal. Her father had always been a master manipulator, but this felt different—more dangerous. The cold fear that had threatened to engulf her the previous night returned, sharper this time, fueled by the chilling realization that her father might have orchestrated the attack. She'd been a pawn, used in a larger game.
"What if it's about more than just the alliance?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, the weight of the possibilities pressing down on her. "What if he used me?" The thought was a bitter pill to swallow, a realization that had been slowly dawning on her for days but had only solidified in this moment.
Adrian didn't respond immediately. He reached across the table, his hand gently covering hers. The simple touch sent a jolt of electricity through her, a stark reminder of the simmering attraction that continued to plague her.
"I don't know for sure," he said softly, his voice laced with a concern that wasn't entirely convincing. "But I trust my instincts, and I'm going to find out. Hopefully, with your help."
She stared at him, studying his face, attempting to decipher the emotions in his eyes. Was this just another ploy, another manipulation? Or was this something…real? The thought of working with him, of uncovering the truth together, held a certain terrifying appeal. There was a raw, undeniable attraction simmering beneath the surface, a connection that defied the anger and resentment, a force that threatened to derail her carefully constructed plan for revenge.
Instead of answering, she leaned in, her lips meeting his in a tender kiss. It wasn't a response, not exactly. It was a promise—a promise of trust, of collaboration, of a partnership that would defy the chaos and uncertainty that had plagued them both. The moment was filled with a tension that was both intoxicating and terrifying. She was falling, falling hard, and she couldn't bring herself to care whether or not she should be afraid.
His hands found her waist, pulling her closer until she was pressed against him, the warmth of his body a comforting weight against the turmoil raging inside her. His kiss deepened, his tongue tracing the line of her jaw, then dipping lower to taste the sensitive skin of her neck. The raw, untamed desire in his touch was a stark contrast to his earlier calmness, a reflection of the potent emotions that simmered between them—anger, fear, lust, and something that felt dangerously like love.
He pulled away, his breath catching in his chest. "I'm going to find out what your father's really up to," he whispered, his voice rough with a raw intensity that sent another jolt of awareness through her. "And I want you to help me."
The proposal felt utterly audacious considering everything that had happened, but there was a raw honesty in his words, a vulnerability that she hadn't seen before. And it was oddly compelling. This wasn't just about a business alliance or a convenient marriage; this was becoming something much more. She trusted her instincts—and her instincts screamed that he wasn't lying.
"I'll help you," she whispered back, her voice barely a breath against his lips. "But if it turns out this is all some kind of twisted game…"
His eyes narrowed. "Then you'll have my full, unwavering support."
He leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear. "And trust me," he murmured, his breath warm against her skin, "I wouldn't do this for anyone else." The implication was clear, undeniable, and sent yet another wave of both excitement and trepidation through her. She was falling, falling fast, and she still didn't know whether to be terrified or elated.
He kissed her again. This time, the kiss was slow and tender, laced with a quiet intimacy that spoke of a bond that was deeper than either of them had realized.