Darling Villain (Forbidden Fruit #1)

Chapter 9

Tiffany

T he sound of birds chirping and the sunlight streaming through blinds wake me up. I stretch leisurely, enjoying the soft sheets against my bare skin.

I peek out from under the comforter and glance at the nonexistent clock above the dresser. It takes me a moment to remember where I am.

I’m not at my apartment.

Instead, I am miles away from the city, locked away like a princess in a tower by Adrien, my dark and mysterious captor.

Groaning, I roll over and bury my face in the pillow, replaying last night’s events in my mind. A mix of hot and cold sensations washes over me as butterflies flutter in my stomach.

I curse myself for not being more subtle. Adrien saw right through me during the first five minutes of my acting debut. I always knew that acting wasn’t for me, even though twelve-year-old Tiffany desperately wanted to be like Julia Roberts in Pretty Women .

I’m actually surprised that Adrien was as reasonable as he was. I expected him to be more... cruel.

What can I say? My expectations after these few days in the charming company of Mr. Leroy have plummeted to rock bottom.

Thankfully, today I’m allowed to leave my gilded cage and see if there’s any chance for escape.

With a smile on my face, I get out of bed and open the blinds, letting the sunshine flood into the room.

The house sits atop a small hill overlooking a sparkling lake below. Fields of lush green surround us while a dense forest borders the property. The trees begin to showcase autumnal hues as their leaves transform into vibrant shades of red and orange.

Through my window, I can also see fences and iron gates blocking any potential escape routes. Adrien wasn’t joking when he said this place is guarded like Fort Knox. Yet, it’s intriguing that he gave me a room with such an incredible view. Is it meant as a warning or a way to make me more at ease? Either way, both are equally terrifying.

Regardless, it’s a beautiful place. Someday, I hope to have a home like this—peaceful, secluded, away from the chaos of a city. A sanctuary where I can find solace and tranquility.

My stomach grumbles, reminding me that breakfast is in order. I check the time and realize I have half an hour before I have to be downstairs. Just enough time for a quick shower.

The bathroom connected to my room is huge. The pristine white marble floors and expansive walk-in shower with a sunken tub look like something out of a magazine or an upscale hotel.

As I step into the shower, I let out a blissful sigh as the warm water envelops my body.

It’s heavenly.

Feeling refreshed and a bit more optimistic, I wrap a plush white towel around myself and step out of the shower. I dry off and contemplate between two less-than-ideal clothing options: an old white shirt I found in the closet that I wore to bed, or the same black dress I arrived here in two days ago. Ultimately, I choose the latter. I want to be more covered and in control.

I slip it on and glance at myself in the mirror. The dress is wrinkled and has seen better days. My pale skin, dark under eyes, and my unruly hair do not improve the matters.

I look rough.

Turns out that being held captive doesn’t do wonders for one’s appearance.

After a few futile attempts at taming my curls, I give up and sit down on the bed, awaiting the guard who will escort me to breakfast.

I’m both excited and terrified to see Adrien again.

He’s the first man who has captured my genuine interest, and it’s messing with my head.

In the past, I’ve been in a few semi-serious relationships and casually dated a handful of guys, but nothing compares to this feeling. The fire in my belly, the racing heart, the overwhelming desire to be near him—it’s all unfamiliar territory for me. And it scares the shit out of me.

I want to figure him out; he’s like a puzzle I can’t solve. One moment he’s cruel and heartless, the next he’s kind and thoughtful. It’s confusing me to no end.

A few minutes later, there’s a knock on the door.

“It’s time for breakfast,” the guard says. It’s the same one who brought me here yesterday. He has dark eyes, short brown hair, and a stern expression. I make a mental note to find out his name. If guards working for criminals are allowed names, that is.

I follow him down a long, winding staircase. We pass through wide hallways and a grand foyer.

In the daylight, the house seems different—less sterile and more lived-in. Flowers and plants are scattered around the house, their beauty enhanced by the early autumn sun shining through the massive windows. Brightly colored, beautiful, and huge plants in vivid shades of green, purple, and pink fill the air with their sweet fragrance. The house looks very welcoming and elegant, a far cry from the dimly lit, foreboding place I arrived at days before.

“Breakfast will be served in the kitchen.”

We walk through large French doors to reach the kitchen, which is just as spacious as the rest of the house. It is sleek and modern, boasting an island in its center, marble countertops, and bright white cabinetry. The stainless steel appliances and polished copper pots hanging above the stove immediately catch my eye. I dream of having a kitchen like this one day.

I’m so distracted by my surroundings that I don’t notice another person in the room—a woman—until a moment later. She is short, barely reaching five feet three, and has a petite frame. She wears a white blouse and khaki pants with a large apron tied around her small waist.

“Good morning,” I tell her.

The girl looks taken aback. She appears young, maybe even my age. Her features are soft and round, with blue eyes and short brown hair framing her face. Freckles sprinkle her nose and cheeks. She looks healthy and well-rested—that must be a good sign, right? She’s certainly here of her own free will.

“Good morning,” she says, looking at the guard, who nods and moves to the other side of the room, leaning against the wall with his arms folded across his chest, his gaze fixed ahead.

“I’m Tiffany,” I introduce myself, offering my hand to the girl.

She gives me a thorough once-over, her expression inquisitive. Her eyes seem to assess me carefully. I must look like a hot mess, or at least not what she was expecting.

“It’s nice to meet you, Miss Carter.” She ignores my outstretched hand. It seems like everyone conspired against me to ignore my attempts at handshakes; I may develop a complex about it.

I retract my hand and clear my throat, trying to break the tense silence.

“Are—” I start, but before I can finish my sentence, Adrien enters the kitchen.

He’s dressed in black slacks and a white button-up shirt, with the sleeves rolled up and the top buttons undone. He looks delicious. His hair is messier than usual, and it makes him seem younger.

I can’t help but stare at him.

“Good morning,” he greets us as he walks towards the kitchen table.

“Good morning, sir,” the girl replies hastily, her face turning red.

Adrien gestures to the chair on his right. “Tiffany, please have a seat.”

The dining table is adorned with a spotless white tablecloth and cushioned chairs covered in soft fabric. I sit down in one of them, my movements followed by Adrien’s intense gaze. I should be used to it by now, but his scrutinizing silence still makes me uneasy.

I look at the table, ignoring him.

The girl has set the table for breakfast with an array of delicious pastries, muffins, fruits, bacon, eggs, and sausage. There is also a large carafe of orange juice and a steaming pot of coffee. My stomach growls as I take in the spread.

“Would you like some coffee?” Adrien asks.

“Um, sure. I could use some.”

He pours me a cup and hands it to me. I take it gratefully, relieved to have something to hold on to. The first sip is heavenly; I can’t believe I went two whole days without it.

“Thank you,” I say, taking another sip.

Adrien leans back and crosses his arms over his chest, eyeing me.

“You look better,” he observes. “I assume you slept well.”

Since when do you care?

“Um... yes,” I reply, avoiding his gaze.

I wait a few minutes after all the pleasantries are done and Adrien has finished his cup of coffee—I know not to push my luck—before starting to interrogate him.

I look at him over the rim of my cup. “I have a few questions.”

Adrien sits up straighter, giving me his undivided attention. “You may leave us,” he declares, dismissing the guard and the girl who were standing nearby.

The girl leaves the room without a word, but the guard hesitates. He seems wary like he’s debating whether to stay or go.

“I’ll be fine,” Adrien assures him impatiently. “Go.”

Giving me one last look, the guard exits.

For a moment, neither of us speaks. The tension between us is palpable, and I shift in my seat.

“Hopefully, you’re more adept at interrogations than you are at manipulation,” he quips, breaking the silence.

I frown. “Excuse me?”

“I’ll humor you this time.” Adrien grins. “What are you curious about, Tiffany?”

“Well, for one, I need more details on how my uncle double-crossed you to warrant such an... extreme reaction?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest.

His expression turns serious in an instant.

“Your uncle put me in a position where I had to seek help from people I’d rather not be indebted to.”

“I’m not sure I understand.”

A smile creeps across Adrien’s face, and his blue eyes sparkle. It’s the first time I’ve seen genuine delight on his face.

It’s a pleasant change, I decide. Happiness looks good on Adrien Leroy.

“You’re new to this game,” he says.

“I’m not playing any games.”

“Everyone plays a game. Everyone has an agenda.”

I roll my eyes.

“Since I’m feeling generous this morning. Two more questions. An answer for an answer.” He raises an eyebrow. “What do you want to know?”

“You haven’t answered the first question, but let me think.” I take a few sips of my coffee, stalling for time. I want to make sure I ask the right questions. “How long will you keep me here?”

“So, you’re back to that.” Adrien leans forward, his fingers steeped together, his elbows resting on the table.

“I’ll keep asking the same questions until you give me an actual answer.”

“You’re going to stay here until I tire of you,” he says matter-of-factly.

I glare at him. “Could you be any more vague?”

“That’s about as vague as it gets.” He smirks at me, his eyes glittering. Jerk. “But if you must know, if you survive one month here without making a run for it, then you can leave.”

“Why does it have to be an entire month? Why can’t I leave after a week or even just a day?”

“Because I need to be sure you’re not a threat.”

“How exactly do you define a threat? Does your definition include words like ‘clueless’ and ‘innocent’?”

“Pretty much.”

I snort. “That seems pretty broad. Maybe I do pose a threat,” I say, taking a big bite out of a muffin. “But just let my sister know I won’t be missing her wedding because some arrogant asshole decided to hold me captive.”

“Your sister?”

“Yes, she’s getting married in a month,” I confirm. I found out about Olivia’s engagement a week ago, and before that, I didn’t even know she had a boyfriend. It caught me off guard and admittedly made me a little upset. But it’s her life and her decision, so who am I to interfere? “I’m supposed to be her bridesmaid. Consider yourself lucky that I’m not the maid of honor, because if I were, I would have run away by now.”

Despite my reservations about my sister’s rushed relationship, there is no way I would miss her wedding. I’d rather die trying to escape than miss such an important event in her life.

“I will not apologize for keeping you here,” Adrien says. “You brought this upon yourself. Why did you go behind your uncle’s back to meet me if you knew the consequences?”

I thought the worst thing that could happen was that Adrien would refuse to help me and would rat me out to my uncle. That was a risk I was willing to take.

I never expected this .

“I already told you. I needed answers.”

“Did you think it was smart to deceive your uncle by sneaking around without even knowing who I am? And you couldn’t think of a better solution than to lie to me that your uncle is out of town?” Adrien’s voice drips with sarcasm.

“Well... yes.”

He looks at me incredulously. “Why don’t you trust your uncle?”

“If I knew the answer to that, I wouldn’t have come to meet you. Let’s just say that the financial records at Carter Corporation are less than stellar for a billion-dollar company. Do you know how many red flags that raise?”

“If you’re so concerned about the business, why haven’t you already talked to your uncle?”

“I have!” I exclaim, exasperated. “Several times! But he didn’t listen to me. He wouldn’t even glance at the numbers. According to him, everything is fine, and there is no need for me to worry. That I’m just being paranoid.”

Honestly, it’s a miracle that I’m the only one who saw the warning signs. My uncle is too busy chasing his next business opportunity to notice that the company our family built from the ground up is slowly crumbling and the finance department is being run by a complete idiot who is there just because my uncle pays him ridiculous amounts of money to stay and be nice and quiet.

“You thought I’d be able to miraculously answer all your questions?” Adrien shakes his head.

I shrug again. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

The silence between us is no longer uncomfortable. I reach for a roll from the breadbasket and take a bite after spreading some butter on it.

“Hmmm,” I mumble around my mouthful of bread. “This is delicious.”

Adrien watches me intently while I chew. “Why finance?” he asks out of the blue.

“What?” I put the bread down, caught off guard. “What do you mean?”

“There are so many other career paths available. Why did you choose finance?”

“I suppose because I enjoy it,” I say, taken aback by the question. “I enjoy understanding how things work and breaking down complex ideas into smaller, more manageable pieces.”

“So you like money.”

I laugh. “Who doesn’t?”

“You know what they say. The love of money is the root of all evil.”

“Oh, please. That’s such an old-fashioned belief. Money is just a tool. It’s how we measure value and trade. Nor inherently good, nor evil. It’s all about how we use it.”

Adrien arches an eyebrow, amused by my response. “They also say something similar about your uncle.”

“What? That he is the root of all evil?”

“Well, it wouldn’t be too far off the truth.” He glances at his watch and stands up.

“Wait.” I scramble to my feet. “I answered your questions. That’s two for one. You owe me.”

“Too late,” Adrien says, already making his way towards the door.

“You’re such an asshole,” I mutter under my breath.

“I’ve heard that. Don’t worry, angel, we can pick up where we left off in the evening.”

I glare at his retreating figure with a scowl.

“Don’t call me angel,” I grumble under my breath.

When he’s a little less wound up and better rested, Adrien Leroy is tolerable. In fact, he can be quite charming.

It’s just a shame that doesn’t seem to last very long.