10. ADELE
10
ADELE
I stared at the email on my laptop screen, feeling the warmth of my half-drunk coffee stall in my throat. My blood rushed to my ears, thudding in time with the rapid beating of my heart. The office around me continued to hum with activity as my cheeks burned, my eyes fixed on the black text before me.
I dragged my gaze from the screen, scanning the office like a criminal ready to bolt from a crime scene. No one was looking at me. No one had noticed.
Breathe.
I swallowed hard, my pulse thudding heavily in my neck.
Reread it.
I returned to the email again, only now daring to fully digest it.
“Miss Pickering,
I hope you don’t mind the direct approach, but I wondered if we could meet for coffee to discuss the interview you’d like to do. Elena is busy, I’m afraid, but I’m willing to help.
Call me.
Edward Hart.”
No way.
His name pulsed on the screen, teasing me with threads of the past I thought I’d buried. I sat back in my seat, the cheap office chair creaking slightly as my finger hovered over the mouse—unsure if I should respond, laugh out loud, or throw my computer through the nearest window.
Finally, I clicked ‘reply’ and typed, my heart hammering as fast as my fingers.
Mr. Hart,
I’m not entirely sure that’s wise. Maybe we should do that when your fiancée is free? Also, email works better for me.
Kind regards,
A. Pickering.
Sent.
THE NEXT DAY
“Adele!” Evelyn. Of course, it was Evelyn. “In my office, now .”
Like I’m a fucking dog.
And like an obedient animal, I go.
She didn’t even look up; she just waved her hand in a move that felt like a slap in the face. My stomach tightened, and I felt a hundred eyes shift briefly in my direction. Standing up from my desk at that moment felt like clambering through quicksand; my limbs weighed down, sluggish.
This day was going to hell. Fast.
As I closed the door behind me, Evelyn sat at her desk, a queen on her throne, eyes gleaming with the kind of intensity sharks have before they strike.
“Is everything okay?” My voice came out tight.
“No,” she spat, her fingers tapping on her desk. “It bloody well isn’t.” She leaned back, her nails gleaming as they tapped against her phone. “I’ve had an email from Edward Hart, also known as Mr Elena Dalton.”
Every hair on my body stood on end, a quiet wail rising in my mind. The harsh fluorescent lights above Evelyn’s desk felt suddenly oppressive, too sharp, too intense—everything about this room was too much.
Why had he done this?
“He said he’s willing to do an exclusive interview, but only if it’s you ,” Evelyn continued, twirling a pen between her fingers. “And, apparently, you’ve turned him down.”
I wanted to scream—anger, disbelief, and confusion all tied together in my chest. I forced my voice to stay calm.
Polite. Professional.
“Well, it’s complicated, and I?—”
She arched one perfectly sculpted eyebrow, her expression daring me to finish that sentence. “But nothing .” Her mouth twisted into a smile that was all sharp edges. “There’s a car outside waiting for you right now. If you still plan on working here tomorrow, you get your arse to his address and land this interview. Edward Hart is today’s meal ticket, and he’s only talking to you.”
Her words slid over me like oil—polluted and suffocating. The room itself seemed to tilt around me, suffused with fluorescent glare, Evelyn’s smug smile stretching with triumph. My mind fought to take it in, even as my limbs responded automatically, robotically, as I stood up and nodded.
“Fine,” I bit out. “But I’m taking the rest of the day off.”
“Take the decade off if you bring me that interview,” she quipped, the backhanded insult hitting its mark.
I clenched my jaw against the seething anger coursing through me.
Evelyn smiled, winking at me. “I don’t care whose dick you have to suck to get this story, but I want it .”
I stared at her, my jaw dropping open at her vulgar words.
Dick? Suck? Edward?
What?
Gripping the armrests of my chair, I forced a smile while silently wishing Evelyn an agonisingly slow death, preferably with an audience.
I marched back to my desk, grabbing my jacket as the wheels on my chair scraped harshly against the floor. My jacket got stuck, and I felt my irritation boiling over. Everyone else carried on, oblivious, while my entire life felt like it was teetering off-axis. I yanked the fabric free, cursing under my breath.
The elevator dinged, and I stepped inside, feeling the last shred of calm slip out of reach. I could already imagine Ted...Edward...standing there, waiting for me with his easy smile and his half-lidded gaze. The same look that had melted all my resistance a decade ago—but it wasn’t then. It was now . And I was here for business .
The truth of it drummed in my ears, spurring frustration.
Outside, the crisp spring air cut through the car’s open window, but inside, the car’s leather seats smelled fresh, like new beginnings. The driver looked at me in the rearview mirror, a knowing smile curling on his lips.
“Edward Hart?” His voice was chipper. “You must be either very lucky or very unlucky, eh?”
I shrugged, tightening my fingers around my bag strap. “Unlucky,” I murmured, casting a fleeting smile that tasted bitter on my lips.
As we pulled up to the Hilton Hotel, the cool steel-blue glass reflected the sky above, and I immediately felt dwarfed by it. My breath hitched.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.
There was something jarring about seeing someone who once filled your world sitting in a hotel.
The double doors slid open with a quiet whoosh , and I walked inside. The scent of fresh lilies and polished floors drifted in, along with the sound of hushed voices and clinking cutlery. I hesitated before heading to the elevator, pressing the button with a hand that shook a little.
When I reached the sixth floor, my heart was in my throat.
Room 607.
Each step felt heavier than the last, and when I finally lifted my hand to knock, I almost choked on my spit.
Fuck! You can do this.
My knuckles rapped against the soft wood, letting the man on the other side know I was here on business.
If he thinks I’m going to throw myself at him and give him his last hurrah before marriage, he’s fucking mistaken.
I waited, the pounding inside my chest louder than any noise in the corridor outside.
Then the door swung open.
Ted—no, Edward —stood in grey jogging bottoms that hung low on his hips, a white T-shirt still clinging damply to his body as the scent of soap and fresh shower steamed from his skin. His eyes—green, deep, unreadable—swept over me, their shock quickly replaced by something more familiar.
Pussy gallops, be still.
The air between us shimmered with unsaid things, the silence loaded and heavy, pressing into the room.
“Good morning,” I said, my voice snapping the tension as though I was here for a simple meet and greet—not a confrontation with an entire decade of lost feelings. I refused to inhale as I passed him, refusing to taste that ‘fuck me’ scent he’s mastered. “I see you didn’t opt for the suite,” I remarked, glancing around the room. It was shockingly normal: a small table in the corner, the door to the bathroom slightly ajar, and the queen-sized bed looming in the middle.
“I like to keep things simple when I can.” Ted’s voice was low behind me. “Thank you for coming.”
I stayed focused on the interview. “If I didn’t come, I’d be sacked,” I snapped, the words sharper than I intended. “Where’s your fiancée?”
“Adele,” Ted sighed, and when he moved closer, I could feel the heat rolling off him in waves. He lowered his voice, the sound vibrating in the small space between us. “I’m sorry, but I knew you’d refuse if I asked outright...and I had to see you. I’m leaving for Hong Kong tomorrow. I couldn’t let things stay like this.”
I swallowed, a sick laugh threatening to bubble up. “Not fair, dragging me here like this, is it?” I gestured harshly around me, the room closing in. “You’re getting bloody married, Ted— Edward! Whatever the hell you want to be called these days.”
His eyes glimmered with something deep and unreadable. “Adele...”
He reached out, his fingers brushing against mine, and the hairs on my arm stood up in response. The air between us was thick, charged, and crackling like an exposed live wire threatening to snap.
“We should sit.” He nodded to the bed, his body language casual, but his eyes speaking volumes of the tension vibrating between us.
I cleared my throat, forcing myself to keep my defences tightly in place. I pulled my recorder from my bag and pressed ‘Record,’ the small red light blinking menacingly between us. I took a deep breath to steady myself.
“Let’s start the interview, then,” I suggested, my voice clipped, firm, and businesslike . “Thanks for agreeing to this interview, Edward. Where did you meet Elena?”
His face tightened for a moment, then softened into that infuriating half-smile. “Where did I meet Elena?” He leaned back slightly, his eyes locking onto mine. “At a bar, if I remember right.”
I waited, impatiently tapping my finger against the table.
He didn’t elaborate.
“Right. And what did you two do on your first date?” I asked, forcing a professionalism I didn’t fucking feel. Deep inside, I was grappling with things I had no intention of exploring while sitting opposite him.
He paused, scratching the stubble on his jaw. “We...went to the cinema.”
“You think?” I tilted my head and barely held back a smirk. “Sounds romantic. When did you realise you wanted to spend the rest of your life with her?”
He clenched his jaw, his shoulders visibly stiff as he exhaled through his nose. I regretted the question even as I heard the words leave my mouth. But this was my job; I had to do it.
Ted—Edward—dropped his gaze, burying his face in his hands. After a tense pause, he heaved a heavy sigh, his voice breaking the spell again.
“That’s just it, Adele.”
The way he said my name made me want to jump on him, rip the clothes from his back as he shoved me to the bed ? —
“I’m not sure I do anymore.”