Chapter 3
White Noise
Paris woke to rain.
The gray sky filled the apartment windows as I finished drying my hair in front of the bathroom mirror, watching Adrien through the reflection. He sat on the edge of the bed, hunched over his phone, typing way too fast for someone who claimed to be just “answering messages from the team.”
This had been going on for days, maybe weeks, and I hated that it was starting to bother me.
“You’re really leaving before lunch?” I asked casually as I fastened my earrings.
“Yeah.” He didn’t even look up. “I need to take care of some things.”
Some things.
Always “some things.”
I snapped the makeup case shut a little harder than necessary.
Adrien finally looked up.
“Hey.” His tone softened immediately. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
He watched me for a few seconds too long.
It was strange how quickly someone could learn another person’s microexpressions. Adrien knew when I was irritated. He knew when I was tired. He knew when I wanted space and when I needed him to grab me by the waist and make me breathe.
But lately, I had the feeling he was somewhere else.
Physically present but mentally distant—and that was new. He got up and walked over slowly, still wearing black sweatpants low on his hips, completely barefoot. His hair was messy from sleep, his white t-shirt rumpled in the back.
Ridiculously handsome.
Always ridiculously handsome. He held my waist and pressed his forehead to mine.
“You’re overthinking again.”
“You’ve been acting strange.”
His green eyes flickered almost imperceptibly.
“I’m not acting strange.”
“You’re distant.”
“Max—”
“You’re glued to your phone. You leave without explaining anything. You disappear for hours. You work late even when you don’t have to.”
He let out a low, tired breath.
“Love, it’s just a busy week.”
I crossed my arms.
“We’re on a season break.”
“And yet there are still sponsors, contracts, media, meetings…”
“Right.”
My tone came out colder than I meant it to.
Adrien ran a hand through his hair, frustrated.
“You know I’d tell you anything important.”
I knew—or at least I thought I did—and maybe that was exactly what was bothering me. Because Adrien had never hidden anything from me before.
Never.
He was too impulsive to hide things. Too transparent. Too intense. When he was happy, the whole world knew it. When he was irritated, same thing.
But now there were little silences and distractions. Moments when I caught him staring into space or smiling at his phone, and it was slowly eating away at me.
Adrien cupped my face in his hands.
“Hey. Look at me.”
I looked, and immediately regretted it. Because that same absurd intensity that always undid me was still there.
“I love you,” he said softly.
My chest tightened.
“Then why does it feel like you’re so far away?”
For a second, something crossed his face.
Guilt?
Anxiety?
I couldn’t identify it, but it disappeared too quickly.
“I’m not far away. Just tired.”
He kissed me before I could push further. That dangerous kind of kiss that made my body forget any rational attempt to keep arguing.
When he pulled back, he touched his nose to mine and gave me a small smile.
“I promise I’ll make up for this weird week.”
Promises.
The problem was that Adrien Moreau rarely made empty promises, and that should have reassured me.
Should have.
Lunch with Sebastian and Charlotte that afternoon only made everything worse.
Charlotte was impossible.
Smiling too much.
Changing the subject too quickly—and Sebastian looked like he was about to burst out laughing every time he glanced at me.
“You two are being really weird,” I finally said, setting down my silverware.
Sebastian raised an eyebrow.
“Us?”
“Yes, you.”
Charlotte nearly choked on her wine.
“Maxine, we literally haven’t done anything.”
“Exactly. And that’s suspicious coming from you two.”
Sebastian laughed.
“You’re being paranoid.”
“And you’re terrible at hiding things.”
The look he exchanged with Charlotte lasted less than a second. I narrowed my eyes immediately.
“What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” Charlotte answered too quickly.
Sebastian took a sip of wine, trying to hide his smile.
Bastards.
I spent the rest of lunch in silence, watching them both.
Adrien arrived almost an hour late and seemed nervous.
Nervous.
Adrien Moreau could drive at three hundred kilometers per hour without so much as a change in his breathing, but here he was, nervous walking into a restaurant in Paris.
That definitely wasn’t normal.
“Sorry I’m late,” he said, leaning down to kiss my forehead.
I caught the scent of rain and his cologne.
My stomach sank for no reason I could name.
“It’s okay,” I replied.
But it wasn’t.
That night, he came home late again.
I was already in bed reading when I heard the apartment door open. Adrien slipped in quietly, thinking I was already asleep. I watched through half-closed eyes as he walked through the living room, shrugging off his jacket.
He looked exhausted, but there was something more.
Anxiety, anticipation, restlessness. My chest tightened again.
Adrien disappeared into the closet for a few minutes before coming back to the bedroom in just sweatpants.
When he lay down beside me, he pulled me close without thinking.
My body fit against his like it always did.
But that night, even that felt fragile.
“You’re awake,” he murmured against my hair.
“I am.”
“Want to tell me what’s going on?” I asked quietly.
He took a few seconds before answering.
“Not now.”
That hurt more than it should have.
Because Adrien never said “not now.” He always told me everything. I closed my eyes, trying to ignore the ridiculous tightness in my chest.
Maybe I was overreacting and it was just stress. Maybe I was letting old insecurities get too loud.
But that was exactly the problem: I had never been insecure before.
Never.
Adrien kissed my shoulder and pulled me even closer.
“Sleep with me, beautiful.”
I swallowed hard.
Because even suspicious… even irritated… even lost inside my own head…
I still felt safer in his arms than anywhere else in the world.
The next morning, I woke up alone. His side of the bed was already empty.
I looked at the clock.
Six thirty.
Too early even for Adrien. I sighed in irritation and dragged myself out of bed, shuffling through the silent apartment.
That’s when I saw his laptop open on the living room counter.
He must have left in a hurry.
I shouldn’t look.
I knew that.
But my eyes landed on the glowing screen, and my heart stopped.
Because there was a reservation open.
Barcelona.
June.
Presidential suite.
Private table.
Dinner for two.
I took a deep breath, trying to get my thoughts under control.
Maybe it was work. An event.
Then my eyes drifted down a little further and found the reservation title.
“Eternal Romance Package.”