Chapter 11
11
ROWENA
I stare at my phone, my face glowing in its pale light—the only illumination in my dark bedroom. What was I thinking, bombarding Adrian with that crazy volley of questions? He’s going to think I’m a total nutcase.
Liam always used to tell me how annoying and silly my sense of humor is. How extra I am. Now Adrian is probably thinking the same.
I flop back onto my pillow with a sigh, ready to toss my phone aside and attempt to sleep, when I notice the three little dots appear. He’s responding. My heart kicks into double-time and I bolt upright, clutching my phone tightly.
“Please don’t let it say ‘Lose my number, you lunatic’,” I mutter, gnawing on my bottom lip. The seconds stretch like cotton candy as I wait. And wait. The dots disappear. Reappear. Disappear again. Jeez, is he writing me a novel? The suspense is killing me.
“Just rip off the Band-Aid already,” I groan, shaking my phone as if that will make his response materialize faster.
While I wait, I imagine his strong hands typing out a reply, his dark eyes narrowed at the screen. Maybe a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth? Or a disturbed grimace? Ugh, I can’t tell. Is he going to play nice just because he’s desperate and he needs me?
I squeeze my eyes shut for a second. Please let him get my oddball sense of humor. Please don’t let him be scared off by my quirky late-night ramblings. I’ve been told I’m an acquired taste. Liam loved to remind me constantly how lucky I was he could endure all my eccentricities.
My phone vibrates in my hand and my eyes fly open.
Adrian
I see you’re going straight for the important stuff
I laugh.
Adrian
Also in no particular order:
Double dipping at a party is NEVER acceptable
Now I’m full-on grinning.
Rowena
But what if the nachos are huge and the salsa really, really good?
Adrian
Still a no go
*thumbs-up emoji* to pineapple on pizza
I’d even go as far as endorse hot honey pizza dips
My eyes widen.
Rowena
Ew, gross
You’re disgusting
Adrian
*skeptical emoji* have you at least ever tried it?
Rowena
I also haven’t tried Oreos dipped in orange juice
But I still know they’d be horrible
Adrian
*laughing emoji* point taken, but don’t knock it til you try it
My phone buzzes again before I can craft a witty rebuttal.
Adrian
I don’t snooze
Oh, I don’t have a problem believing that.
Adrian
Don’t own a single pair of sandals, but if I did, I’d never wear them with socks. Even if, weirdly enough, I don’t mind socks with sliders
I read the text and snort a laugh, shaking my head in disbelief. Who is this guy?
Rowena
Agreed. Sandals and sliders are two distinct categories when it comes to footwear and sock-wearing
Adrian
I’m neither a cat nor a dog person, but if you move in with me, you can get two of each
Rowena
Are you trying to bribe me?
Adrian
Shamelessly
You can also take all my fries, and I share dessert
But you don’t want to play a board game with me, that might *actually* start a war
I’m aware I’m swooning a little as I type a reply.
Rowena
I had a feeling you were the competitive type
Adrian
My weirdest habit… I never make a trade if it’s 11:11
Rowena
Isn’t that supposed to be a lucky hour?
Adrian
I don’t believe in luck
Rowena
I hope my fortune cookie messages are in a separate room where they can’t be subjected to your misbeliefs
Adrian
*laughing emoji*
I promise never to express my skepticism in front of them
But I hope I’ve answered all your questions for now
Rowena
You didn’t tell me about ghosts
This time he doesn’t shoot back as fast as before. The answer takes longer to come in.
Adrian
I shouldn’t believe in ghosts. But tonight, I feel like mine are circling me in the darkness
Wow, he went from playful to deep fast. I’m having a bit of whiplash when the next text pops in.
Adrian
Sorry, that sort of put a damper on the mood
But I’m stressed. I hate not being in control and I’m spiraling
Rowena
I’m not the most collected person but I get it. Today was hard. For both of us
Adrian
I’m going to let you go to sleep now, you and the baby need to rest
Goodnight to both
My eyes go as big as Puss in Boots’. Is it just me, or is he really sweet?
Rowena
Keep your lights on and wear a sleep mask instead
Ghosts don’t like light
He sends me a picture back of his night lamp lit up. I glimpse a stylish bedroom in the background.
Something in my chest pulls. If I’d sent a message like that to Liam, he would’ve ridiculed me—if not worse.
Instead, now, even after what has been the most horrible day of my life, I close my eyes, dropping my phone on my chest, enveloped in a vague, unjustified sense of hope.
Two days later, the mid-June heat slams into me as I step out of my apartment building, the stifling air clinging to my skin. I squint against the bright sunlight, my eyes still adjusting after spending the past forty-eight hours mostly in bed with the curtains drawn. Queasiness churns in my stomach, an unpleasant reminder of how much I’ve been throwing up since getting fired. But I’m determined to push through the morning sickness. I need to get out of the house, get some fresh air. And if I’m being honest with myself, I’m really looking forward to seeing Adrian again, despite my roommates’ warnings.
Nina’s voice echoes in my head as I walk down the curb. “Winnie, are you sure about this? Going to meet some rich guy alone at his place?”
“It’s just coffee first,” I assured her. “I’ll text you every hour to let you know I’m alive.”
Hunter chimed in, “And if he tries anything, knee him where it counts and run like hell!”
I waved a hand. “I’ll be fine. Adrian’s not an ax murderer.”
At least, I’m pretty sure he’s not… 99 per cent sure .
“Alright, but keep your guard up,” Nina said. “And your pepper spray handy.”
“Yes, Mom,” I said, rolling my eyes good-naturedly as I exited the apartment.
I chuckle to myself, grateful for their concern even if they’re being a tad overprotective. Apprehension flaps in my stomach as I spot Adrian’s car waiting. Sam, his driver, steps out and opens the rear passenger door for me.
“Good morning, Miss Taylor,” he greets me politely.
“Morning, Sam. And please, just call me Rowena.” I slide into the backseat, the cool leather a welcome relief from the oppressive heat outside. The AC hits my skin, further cooling me just as the door shuts with a light thud.
Moments later, Sam merges onto an empty lane, and I pull out my phone. Nina and Hunter will be expecting that first text. I switch to the camera app, angling it to capture my face against the backdrop of the car’s posh interior. Flashing a grin and a thumbs up, I snap a selfie.
Tapping out a message, I attach the photo and hit send, officially starting the clock on my promised hourly check-ins.
My stomach flips again as the reality of what I’m doing hits me. Gosh, I’m so nervous to see Adrian. After our text exchange a couple of days ago, he’s only messaged me once to confirm today’s appointment. What will he say? What will I say?
I smother my plain T-shirt down. I wanted to look cute, wear a sundress, but practicality won out—I’m in jeans and an easily washable top in case I need to kneel on a questionable restroom floor and spill my guts out. Definitely not a dress day.
As the car weaves through the quiet weekend streets, my mind spins with thoughts of tall, intimidating, darkly handsome Adrian. I have to keep reminding myself this meeting is just business. A contract. Nothing more.
So why do I feel like I’m heading to a first date instead of a business negotiation? I fiddle anxiously with my hair, twisting a lock around my finger. I need to stay detached, be clinical about this. Even if his deep brown eyes make me want to melt…
The temptation to stare at the picture of him I saved on my phone is strong. Instead, I plonk the device back into my bag and focus on the scenery flashing by the tinted windows, hoping to calm the butterflies rioting in my stomach.
Soon the car slows and I glance up as Sam speaks. “We’ve arrived, Miss Taylor—Rowena.”
My stomach swoops and I swallow hard against a surge of nausea. Morning sickness or just nerves about facing Adrian. Maybe both.
“Thank you, Sam,” I manage, trying to inject some confidence into my voice. I can do this. I need to do this.
Before I can gather myself further, the door is opening, releasing a flood of bright sunlight into the back of the car. I blink against the sudden glare, my eyes watering. Sam’s hand appears, palm up in invitation.
Drawing one last fortifying breath, I place my hand in his and allow him to assist me out. The heat hits me again like a wall after the cool air conditioning, making me almost recoil back into the shade of the car.
Instead, I stand tall and step fully out onto the sidewalk. The door shuts with a muted thump behind me and I’m suddenly aware I’m still clinging to Sam’s hand. Blushing, I release him and raise my hand to shield my eyes as I take stock of our destination. We’re somewhere in Tribeca, just a splash from the river but not in view of the Hudson .
Nerves jangle through me and my stomach twists into a tighter knot as I say goodbye to Sam. This is it. No more stalling. Time to face the ruthlessly handsome millionaire who wants to marry me.
I lower my shading hand, blinking as my eyes adjust. I’m standing in front of a quaint coffee shop decked out with stylish blue wooden paneling punctuated by a flower arch just above the entrance door.
To the side, there’s a cart with plants for sale—spider plants, succulents, and some potted herbs. A mini garden market. The vases are recycled cans that look stylish despite being essentially garbage. On a normal day, I would’ve stopped to look, maybe bought something. But today I don’t have either the money to spare nor the certainty of a home in which to put the plant. So, I push past and enter the coffee shop.
Inside, the rustic charm of wooden shelves meets the elegance of neatly arranged bouquets, and the smell of dark roast gives a rich undertone to the delicate floral notes while the enticing scents of vanilla and butter waft from the display of pastries.
Indie music is playing just loud enough to vibe to. I barely take this all in, my eyes searching the room for Adrian. I almost pass him over and then do a double take. Out of a suit, I almost didn’t recognize him. He’s seated at a corner table, casually relaxed as he scrolls on his phone in fitted jeans and a white polo shirt that highlights his toned arms.
This weekend version of him seems less intimidating. Still devastatingly handsome, though.
Adrian glances up from his phone and notices me, a warm smile spreading across his face. My insides do a cha-cha-cha across my digestive tract and this time, I’m sure the dance has nothing to do with morning sickness .
Raising my hand in an awkward little wave, I make my way over to where he’s sitting. As I approach the table, I notice a steaming mug already waiting at my place. Did he order for me? A jolt of unease shoots through me. Liam used to do that—decide what I wanted without bothering to ask, as if my opinion didn’t matter.
“Hey,” Adrian says.
My tongue feels like sandpaper. “Hey.”
I avoid eye contact, still fixated on that mug.
But then Adrian trails my gaze and speaks in his deep, soothing voice. “I got you a honey ginger tea, it might help with the nausea. But please, if there’s anything else you’d like—food, another drink—just say the word and I’ll get it for you.”
Relief floods through me, dissolving the knot of tension. He was trying to be thoughtful, not controlling. This is Adrian, not Liam. I need to remember that.
I give him another tentative smile. Despite being a cutthroat professional in the high-stake game of Wall Street—at least if Dylan and Tristan are to be believed—Adrian seems to be more nervous than me as he keeps talking.
“They have a high-protein granola yogurt that’s also supposed to be good for expectant mothers,” he continues, his brow furrowing. “But I wasn’t sure if you felt up to eating anything; I didn’t want to presume.”
The considerate gesture warms me from the inside out, chasing away the last of my unease. “Thank you, that’s sweet of you. The yogurt sounds perfect right about now. And maybe some water too, if you don’t mind?”
Adrian’s face lights up. “You got it. One granola yogurt and a water, coming right up.” He stands, and I can’t resist sneaking a glance at how his jeans hug the muscular curve of his backside as he heads to the counter. Hot damn .
The man fills out a pair of Levi’s like it’s nobody’s business.
Tearing my gaze away, I wrap my hands around the warm mug and breathe in the soothing scent of ginger and honey.
I take a tentative sip of the tea, savoring the way it soothes my throat. I’m surprised by how different this casual breakfast is from any interaction I ever had with Liam. My ex never would’ve gone out of his way to find something to ease my discomfort. With him, it was always about what he wanted, what worked for him, what I could do for him. But Adrian… he seems to care. Or at least he’s good at making me feel like he does.
I’m just taking another careful swallow of tea when Adrian returns, setting a glass of water and a bowl of creamy white yogurt sprinkled with granola in front of me. “Your order, milady,” he announces with a playful little half-bow before settling back into his seat.
“My hero,” I quip, surprised at how easily the banter comes. Usually, I clam up around guys I’m attracted to, my wit drying up like the Sahara. But something about Adrian puts me at ease, despite the unconventional circumstances. “Seriously though, thank you.”
“It’s nothing.” Adrian’s smile softens as his gaze meets mine, warm and sincere. “I know this whole situation isn’t easy. But I want to make this as uncomplicated as possible and for you to be comfortable with everything that we discuss today.”
Right, because we’re only here to discuss a business arrangement. I must drill that concept into my head.
Just.
Business.