Chapter 13
Tiffany
M y body trembles as I strain against the restraints, cold metal digging into my wrists and ankles. The bright lights above me make it hard to see, but I can sense the looming figures surrounding the table. My throat burns from screaming, and tears stream down my face as I plead, “No, no... please...”
“Where are the goods?” a deep, menacing voice demands.
“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
A searing pain shoots through my body as something sharp pierces my skin. I scream, writhing against the restraints.
“Wrong answer,” another voice says.
They want something from me, but I have no idea what it is. Panic rises in my chest as something cold and metallic presses against my neck. A blade.
“Tell us where they are,” the first voice threatens. “Or we’ll make sure you never see the light of day again.”
With a jolt, I wake up covered in sweat, my chest heaving with each panicked breath. The room is dark and oppressive, and it takes a moment for me to realize it was all just a nightmare. But the fear still lingers, and my fingers tremble as they grip the damp sheets.
I force myself to take deep breaths, trying to calm down.
It was just a dream , I tell myself. A nightmare.
But as I lie there in the darkness, my body still trembling, I can’t shake the feeling that this nightmare might be more prophetic than I want to admit. With everything that’s happened lately, with Dean and the growing web of lies and danger I’ve found myself in, could this be a warning of some kind?
I reach out, seeking the comfort of Adrien’s warm body next to me, but my hand finds only an empty space. My eyes snap open, my heart racing anew.
Where is he?
Sitting up, I strain my ears, listening for any sign of movement in the apartment. That’s when I hear it—the faint strains of music drifting from down the hall. Piano notes are soft and melancholic.
Curiosity overrides my lingering fear. I slip out of bed, wrapping myself in Adrien’s shirt, the one he left on the floor earlier. It’s soft and smells like him, providing some much-needed comfort as I venture into the hallway.
“Adrien?” I call out softly but receive no answer.
I follow the music to the living room, where I find him sitting at a grand piano, his fingers gliding effortlessly over the keys. The room is bathed in soft moonlight filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting everything in an ethereal glow.
Adrien’s hair falls across his forehead, and as he plays shirtless, the muscles in his arms and back flex and relax in rhythm with the melody. He seems lost in the music, and I lean against the doorframe, watching him, feeling the pull of his melody—the beauty and the pain it embodies.
As the song comes to an end, Adrien’s fingers linger on the keys, and he raises his head. Our eyes lock, and for a moment, time seems to stand still.
“I didn’t know you played,” I whisper, not wanting to break the spell.
A small, rueful smile curves his lips. “I used to when I was younger. Piano was my first love.”
I cross the space between us, my hands reaching out to touch the piano keys. “It’s beautiful,” I say, trailing my fingers over the cold, smooth surface of the keys. “What’s it called?”
“It doesn’t have a name.” Adrien’s eyes follow my fingers. “I compose when I can’t sleep. It helps quiet the noise in my head.”
I’m struck by how vulnerable he looks, how different from the confident, sometimes arrogant man I’ve come to know.
“Do you want to talk about it? Whatever’s keeping you awake?”
“You.”
The word hangs in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning.
“What about me?”
“You make me feel like I can’t breathe,” Adrien says, his voice low and hoarse. “Like I’m drowning in a sea of emotions. And I can’t escape.”
I step closer, reaching out to place a hand on his shoulder. “Is that such a bad thing?”
“No, but it has consequences. It’s not just about me, Tiffany. There’s an entire world out there that we need to protect from our secrets.”
As I approach, the intricate rose tattoo on his chest catches my eye. Without thinking, I extend my hand, my fingers hovering just above his skin.
“May I?”
Adrien nods, his eyes never leaving mine as I gently trace the delicate lines of the tattoo. The skin is warm beneath my fingertips, his pulse quickening.
“I’ve always wondered about it. Does it have a special meaning?”
He lets out a soft sigh. “It does. The yellow rose was my mother’s favorite flower. She loved them. Said they reminded her of sunshine. This tattoo—it’s my way of keeping her with me. A reminder of her light, even in the darkest times.”
Without thinking, I step closer, my arms sliding around his waist as I rest my head against his chest. His heartbeat is steady beneath my ear, a comforting rhythm that grounds me. “I’m so sorry.”
Adrien’s arms wrap around me instinctively, his hands resting against my back as if he’s afraid I’ll slip away. “It was a long time ago.”
His voice is soft, but I can hear the weight of his grief, even after all these years. I tighten my hold on him, wanting to absorb some of that pain, to share the burden he’s carried alone for so long.
“I remember the summer my parents died in a car crash. I was eleven, Olivia sixteen,” I murmur against his chest. “We were both so young and yet Olivia held me together through it all. I remember the endless nights of tears and confusion, and then there was the guilt—the feeling that it was my fault for not being there with them. I remember how I clung to my sister, needing her to ground me in reality when everything was spinning out of control.”
Adrien pulls me onto his lap, and I snuggle into his chest before continuing. “You know, my uncle moved in just after they passed away, and from that very first night, I began hearing screams every single night. At first, my uncle would come into my room, sit on my bed, and reassure me it was just my imagination and that I was safe. Eventually, I convinced myself he was right, that the screams were just that—fears. That they would eventually go away. And they did, after I switched rooms and moved two stories up.”
He runs his fingers through my hair. “Do you miss them?”
“My parents? Every day. I remember my mom’s laughter, the way she used to bake cookies, and the smell of her favorite perfume. And Dad’s strong, calloused hands, and the way he’d sing me to sleep when I was little. And sometimes, I wonder if we ever truly get over losing someone we love.”
“I wish I could say that our pain lessens over time, but the ache never fully goes away. We just learn to live with it, to find ways to cope. That’s why I play music, why I compose. It’s the only thing that makes the guilt bearable.”
We fall silent. I study Adrien’s face, noting the pain etched in the lines around his eyes and the tension in his jaw. I reach out, my fingers ghosting along his cheek.
His eyes lock with mine. The air between us seems to crackle with tension, a mix of shared grief and something else... something electric.
“You know that you’re not at fault for what happened to your mother, right?”
Adrien looks away, his jaw clenching. “If I was not away at college—”
“You know what?” I interrupt, cupping his face and making him look back at me. “That’s not how it works. Life doesn’t follow the rules of a narrative, where one person’s actions can solely dictate the outcome of another person’s life. You are punishing yourself for something you couldn’t have prevented.”
He scoffs. “Are you actually saying that I—the person who has done so many mortally wrong things—deserve forgiveness? Or that I couldn’t have prevented most of them? I kidnapped you, for God’s sake, used you, and yet you expect me to forgive myself and move forward with my life?”
“Those are two separate issues. You may have made mistakes, but that doesn’t define who you are. And as for your mother, it’s not fair to blame yourself for her choices. You couldn’t have predicted or prevented what happened.” I run my fingers over his cheek. “I’m not telling you to forget or even forgive yourself. I telling you I forgive you for what you’ve done to me. I forgive you.”
“How can you forgive me? I’ve been horrible to you. I’ve orchestrated your uncle’s death.”
I don’t pull away. Instead, I tighten my hold on him, my fingers tangling in the fabric of his shirt.
“Because I see you. Not just the man who made those choices, but the man who’s trying to be better. The man who plays the piano to silence the noise in his head. The man who carries a yellow rose on his chest to keep his mother’s light alive. I see you, Adrien. And I believe in who you’re becoming.”
“Do you think I could get better?” he asks hoarsely.
“I know you can.”
Our gazes lock, and warmth spreads through my chest like the sun breaking through the clouds after a storm.
“Our pasts have shaped us in ways we can’t even comprehend. But it’s not about what happened to us; it’s about how we choose to rise above it. We can’t change the past, but we can shape our present and future. Do you want that, Adrien? Not for me, not for anyone else, but for yourself?”
Adrien swallows hard. “I want to be better,” he whispers.
“Then you’ll figure it out. One day at a time.”
We sit staring at each other until the sun rises, painting the sky with hues of pink and orange.
I lean in, drawn by an irresistible force. Adrien’s breath hitches, his eyes darkening with desire. Our lips meet, and it’s like a spark igniting a wildfire. The kiss deepens, passionate and hungry, months of longing and unspoken feelings pouring out.
My fingers tangle in Adrien’s hair as his arms wrap around me, pulling me closer. The world falls away, leaving only us, our shared pain transforming into a desperate need for connection.
“Tiffany,” Adrien breathes against my lips, his voice husky with want.
I respond by kissing him harder, pouring everything into it. My doubts and reservations vanish in the heat of our embrace.
Adrien’s hands roam my body, leaving trails of fire in their wake. He lifts me effortlessly, and I feel the cool surface of the piano beneath me as he lays me down. We intertwine, our bodies fitting together perfectly.
The melody of our breathing fills the room, harmonizing with the faint hum of the city outside. Adrien’s lips trail down my neck, each touch sending shivers through me. His hands are firm yet gentle as if he’s memorizing every curve, every inch of me. I arch into him, my fingers gripping his shoulders, grounding myself in the moment’s intensity.
“I can’t lose you again,” he murmurs against my skin, his voice raw with emotion. “Not after everything.”
I tilt his face up to meet mine, my thumbs brushing over the stubble on his jaw. “You won’t. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”
His eyes search mine, and I see vulnerability there, a crack in the armor he’s rebuilt after I left him in Italy. It’s terrifying and beautiful all at once.
Our bodies move together in perfect harmony, every touch igniting new sensations. Adrien’s fingers trace patterns on my skin, sending shivers down my spine. I arch into him, desperate for more contact.
“God, Tiffany. You’re so beautiful.”
I run my hands down his back. “You’re not so bad yourself.”
Our laughter mingles with soft moans as we explore each other, rediscovering what we once knew and finding new territories. The piano keys beneath us occasionally sound, creating an impromptu melody that seems to match our rhythm.
Time loses all meaning as we lose ourselves in each other. Every caress, every kiss feels like coming home and embarking on a new adventure all at once.
As we reach our peak together, tears prick my eyes. It’s overwhelming—the physical pleasure, but more than that, the emotional connection. For the first time in years, I feel truly seen, truly understood.
Afterward, Adrien picks me up—the second time in the past twenty hours—and carries me to bed, laying me down. He curls around me protectively, his fingers tracing lazy circles on my arm, and I nestle closer to him, savoring his warmth.
“What are you thinking?” He presses a kiss on my forehead.
“This changes everything, doesn’t it?”
Adrien’s arms tighten around me. “Yeah,” he says with a sigh, his breath warm against my skin. “I guess it does.”