10 Manipulate
Later that night, Adrian lay propped up on one elbow, eyes fixed on the woman sleeping beside him.
Sienna. In his bed. In his arms. Again.
Her face was turned toward him, her breathing soft and steady. His hand hovered near her cheek, afraid that if he touched her, she’d vanish like a dream.
His chest hurt. Not the kind of pain he was used to—this was something deeper. It felt like coming home after being lost for too long.
He didn’t sleep. Couldn’t.
He reached out, fingers gently brushing her curls away from her face, tracing her cheek with a touch full of longing.
But then, a thought crept into his mind.
‘There were no marks on her body. No redness. No signs of intimacy. It felt like she hadn’t been with anyone in a long time.’
His brows drew together, shadows flickering across his face.
‘But I saw her come out of that hotel room with Theo. So how is that possible?’
The questions gnawed at him, refusing to let go. Yet, as he stared down at her sleeping face, something in him gave way.
“I don’t care,” he murmured quietly, voice rough. “As long as you come back to me, nothing else matters.”
He slid back under the covers, his arm slipping beneath her neck. And in her sleep, she stirred, her body naturally turning toward his, half-draped over him as she burrowed into his chest in her sleep.
Adrian’s eyes softened.
He buried his face in her hair, the scent of her wrapping around him like comfort, like peace.
He dipped his face into her hair, breathing her in, and kissed her forehead gently. His arms locked around her, holding her like he never wanted to let go.
And for the first time in two years, Adrian Vaughn—billionaire, kingmaker, the man who had everything—finally fell asleep with the only thing he ever truly wanted.
***
The next morning Sienna stirred, eyes fluttering open. The bed beside her was empty, the room quiet.
She sat up slowly, brushing her hair back. The memories of last night flooded back as her eyes adjusted to the light. This time, she really took in the room.
It was filled with photos—photos of them. On the nightstand. On the walls. Framed on shelves. Even a massive framed portrait hanging where the abstract artwork used to be. All of them were of her and Adrian.
Her breath caught.
She remembered the time, years ago, when they had been together. One morning, while Adrian was at the office, she had decided to surprise him. She had snuck out of bed, framed some of their photos, and placed them around the room—one on the nightstand, one on the wall after removing a landscape painting.
When Adrian came back from the office, he paused just inside the doorway, his sharp gaze sweeping over the bedroom. Then it landed on the photos.
Her face had lit up, glowing with excitement. “Look at them,” she had beamed, hands spread like she was showing off a masterpiece. “Now doesn’t your room look perfect for the both of us?” she asked happily, eyes sparkling. “Are you surprised?”
But to her shock, his face had twisted with irritation. His dark brows furrowed, and annoyance hardened his handsome features. “What is all this shit?” he snapped.
Her smile faltered. Her heart dropped, but she didn’t let it show. Chin tilted up in defiance, she had marched toward him with her hands planted on her hips and declared, “I hung our photos in the room. Now, anyone who walks in will know I’m the future mistress of this house—and this bedroom.”
Adrian’s eyes had darkened further. His voice was sharp, deep, authoritative. “Gabby!” he barked.
The maid had rushed in instantly, startled.
“Get these photos out of my room within the hour,” he had ordered coldly, not even sparing Sienna a glance. “And don’t let anyone change my room again.”
Gabby had looked at Sienna guiltily, caught off guard. Everyone knew Sienna practically lived in Adrian’s bedroom. Even if they weren’t officially living together, they had been inseparable. So for him to act like she was just ‘anyone’ had been a shock.
Gabby had given Sienna a regretful look before stepping out silently.
Adrian hadn’t said another word. He had turned on his heel and disappeared into the walk-in closet, yanking off his tie and pulling open a drawer with a hard clatter.
Sienna had let out a frustrated huff, her pout deepening. “Hey!” she had shouted after him, her voice shaky with emotion. “What do you mean?! You don’t want me to be your future wife?”
But the question had hung in the air like a ghost. Adrian hadn’t responded. Hadn’t even looked back.
And now, those same photos were back. Not just one or two. Dozens. On the nightstand, on the walls, even large portraits. His bedroom was covered in photos of them together.
She sat up in bed, clutching the sheet to her chest, her eyes scanning every corner of the room.
“He’s gone all out,” she scoffed softly, both amused and hurt. Her gaze moved slowly around the room. “Set this all up to make me believe he has feelings for me.” Her fingers brushed over a frame on the nightstand. She scoffed. “How easy does he think it is to manipulate me?”
She set the frame down with a click, swung her legs over the bed, and reached for her clothes. The room felt heavy, stifling. And he wasn’t even here, he’d already left, like always. What was the point of staying?
Better to go home. Shower. Breathe.
Still, a part of her stung. He left right after sleeping with her, just like he used to. ‘He hasn’t changed. He’d walked away right after sleeping with me. Again. he never cared. It’s always about him.’
She shook her head, angry at herself for expecting anything different. Within five minutes, she was dressed—back in the black slip dress and heels she had worn earlier that night. No makeup, no fix-up. Just escape.
Purse in hand, ready to leave.
But just as she climbed down the stairs, and stepped into the hallway—she froze.
Adrian was in the kitchen. Shirtless. Cooking.
His back to her as he stood at the stove, broad shoulders tense, muscles flexing with every movement. The morning sunlight slanted through the windows, catching on his dark hair and the veins that ran down his strong arms.
The moment he heard her footsteps, he turned.
Then, immediately, he strode toward her.
Before she could react, he bent low, scooped her effortlessly into his arms, and carried her straight to the dining table.
She gasped, shocked.
“Adrian—what—”
He sat her down gently, one large hand cupping her cheek. His brows were drawn together, concern etched in every line of his face.
“Do you feel uncomfortable?” he asked, his deep voice soft but intense.
“I’m fine,” she mumbled, still stunned.
He gave a soft nod, his eyes scanning her face carefully. Then he turned and grabbed a plate of scrambled eggs, setting it in front of her.
Noticing the glass of milk, he quietly took it away and replaced it with a steaming cup of coffee.
She blinked in surprise, her eyes shooting up to him. “You know I don’t like milk?”
Adrian dragged his chair closer, angling his body fully toward her. “Of course I know,” he said, voice low. “I’ve always known. I just wasn’t the kind of man who showed it. But I’m done being that guy.”
He reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Then he leaned in, his lips brushing against hers with a soft, slow kiss. “I’ll take good care of you from now on. That’s a promise.”
He leaned in again to kiss her deeper, but she turned her face away, pulling back just as his lips neared hers.
She took a few quick sips of coffee, then stood abruptly. “I need to go home,” she said quietly and turned away from him.
She started to walk away, only to stop in her tracks. ‘My phone?’ Her heart skipped a beat. She rummaged through her bag, but it wasn’t there.
Taking a deep breath, she turned around and walked back upstairs. The bedroom was just as she had left it—unmade and still heavy with silence.
Her eyes scanned the room until they landed on her phone lying near the closet door. She walked over, picked it up, and turned to leave. But then she froze. Her eyes lifted and through the glass door on the other side, she saw it.
Her eyes widened.
There were women’s clothes hanging inside.
Stunning dresses. Delicate fabrics. Expensive brands.
Her heart sank.
‘So he already has another woman living here? And now he’s trying to add me to the list?’
The thought hit her like a punch.
She stepped into the bathroom, her chest tightening. Her gaze scanned the shelves. Feminine products were neatly arranged. Expensive creams, shampoo, perfume bottles.
She picked up a jar of face cream, the exact brand she used. The mocking smile that formed on her lips was bitter and hollow.
‘Of course. I was a fool to expect anything. No man like him stays single for two years. And now, I’m just another name on his list.’
Before she could dwell deeper in that thought, the door opened behind her.
Adrian walked in, his presence filling the space. His eyes went straight to the cream in her hand, and a small smirk tugged at his lips.
She turned to him in surprise.
He was smiling?
Adrian stepped closer, the scent of his cologne washing over her, warm, masculine, familiar. His broad chest pressed against her back as his strong arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her into the hard wall of his body. His voice was low, a deep rumble against her neck.
“This is the one you use, right?” he murmured, his breath fanning across her skin. “I set up the bathroom for you the very day we met again. Everything you use, it's already here. All the things you like. Your favorite scents. Clothes in my closet. All picked according to your taste.”
His voice was soft, deep, tender, but the way his arms tightened around her was possessive.
“If you want anything else, just tell me. I’ll get it. When you finish these, I’ll bring you new ones.”
Then his lips touched her neck—warm, slow, lingering. A trail of kisses behind her ear, down the column of her throat, as if he couldn’t help himself. His stubble brushed her skin with every stroke, sending a tremor through her spine.
Her body stiffened. Her expression was caught between surprise and confusion.
“You don’t have to do all this,” she said quietly. “We’re just being physical. There’s nothing more between us. So you don’t have to go this far.”
Adrian didn’t pull away. “It’s normal for me to take care of you. It’s my responsibility now.”
His kisses grew deeper, no longer soft, but intense. His mouth moved down to her collarbone. His teeth grazed her skin gently, then again, this time with more intensity. A groan rumbled in his throat as he bit down on her throat, then soothed the mark with his tongue.
“Stop—” she gasped, her breath catching. “Don’t do that. Be careful.”
Adrian stilled, his lips hovering just above her skin. His dark eyes found hers in the mirror in front of them. His grip on her waist tightened subtly, his thumb rubbing soft circles over her hip.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, voice rough with restraint.
“Don’t leave marks. I can’t let my husband see them,” she said calmly, without flinching. Her hand reached up to rub the spot he’d bitten. “You and I, we're a secret. I can’t let anyone find out. You’re going to overcomplicate things for me.”
Adrian’s expression darkened. His jaw clenched, his chest rising with uneven breath. Jealousy flickered in his eyes. Then came pain. And guilt.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. He kissed her neck again, softer this time, before pulling away.
Sienna pried his hands off her waist. She placed the cream box back on the counter and walked out of the washroom without sparing him another glance.
Adrian remained frozen, his gaze locked on her retreating figure. His fists slowly curled at his sides, knuckles pale. A dull, unbearable ache spread through his chest, tightening around his ribs like a vice.
“I used to have every right to you,” he muttered under his breath. His entire body was tense, trembling with restraint. “You never minded when I left marks. You even smiled. But now, you talk about hiding them for someone else. I pushed you away, and now I’m paying for it. You’re burning me alive, Sienna. Can’t you see that?”