8. Adrian
8
ADRIAN
What the hell is this?
“Um, Adrian?” Ella mutters as she drops her purse on the ground next to her suitcase. “What in the world is going on here?”
There are rose petals scattered on the floor, leading to the living room. Champagne on ice. A spread of desserts and other delicacies on a buffet. Soft, operatic music from overhead. A glittering welcome banner with our names hanging from the ceiling by the windows overlooking the coast.
I move around the room carefully. “I’m… not sure.”
Ella looks back at me. “I thought I said no more surprises. A warning at the very least.”
“I’m just as surprised.”
I glance around. What the hell is this? Is my mom going to pop out from around the corner? It’s like we’re on a honeymoon. Shouldn’t this sort of thing be saved for the bride and groom? And this suite is definitely not the one I wanted my assistant to book. My face falls. There’s only one room off the main living area. There’s…
“There’s only one bed.”
I look at Ella standing in the doorway to the only bedroom in the suite. Continue to look because I can’t keep my eyes off her. Those legs. I shouldn’t be staring like this, given the circumstances. I shouldn’t be thinking about the way her hand felt in mine. Her scent. The way her lips?—
“Adrian!” Ella shouts, finally ripping me out of my head. “There’s only one bed!” She jabs her finger at the bedroom behind her.
“What happened to separate bedrooms?” Ella sets her purse down on the couch and then takes slow, methodical steps around the suite.
At first, we considered separate rooms entirely, but that would’ve been even more complicated if someone caught either Ella or me slipping into a random room. Instead, I booked the largest suite where we’d hardly see each other. Or so I thought.
I scratch my neck.”That’s a good question.”
“A good question?” She takes a few steps toward me. “This is a dealbreaker. We’re not sleeping in the same bed. It’s in the contract. Separate rooms. Remember rule number one?”
“I didn’t set this up. I have no idea what happened, but I’ll fix this.”
As much as I’d like to share a bed with Ella, I’d never force it. And I’d never risk the little progress I’ve made with her for something so silly.
She sighs heavily. “At least there’s dessert.”
I look at Ella perusing the desserts, her hands hovering over the spread. None of it looks appetizing. The only dessert I want is currently pissed at me, and rightly so. I swallow hard, trying my best not to push my luck, openly gawking at her as she selects a chocolate-covered strawberry. But I can’t stop staring. I can’t peel my eyes away from her.
She’s so sexy with her skin flushed, shades of pink that are a stark contrast to her bleached white romper. The same romper I’d fantasized about tearing off with my teeth from the moment I saw that picture of her in my office. But seeing her wear it in real life… I’ve been slowly losing my mind from the moment I opened that door to her apartment and saw her wearing it.
I damn near choke as I watch her bring a chocolate-covered strawberry to her mouth, her lips wrapping around it. What I wouldn’t give to be that strawberry, even if it meant my life would be over. Ella’s lip wrapped around me one time would make it all worth it.
“So what’s the plan?”
“Plan?” My voice is ragged. Strained. Every muscle in my body is tight after watching Ella devour that strawberry.
She snorts and then turns to me. “We’re not sleeping in the same bed.”
She’s not wrong. If Ella and I slept in the same bed? There are limits to my self-restraint, and being that close to Ella with nothing but a layer of thin fabric between us… Every single line item on our contract would be smashed to pieces.
“Never crossed my mind.” More than a thousand times.
She makes a face as I close the gap between us.
“I’ll fix this.” I’m close enough that I can breathe in her intoxicating scent. Her lips are glistening from the strawberry, and I can’t help but wonder if they’re as soft and sweet as I imagine. “I’ll head to the front desk and figure it out. I promise you.”
She turns to me. “Thanks. I don’t mean to be difficult, but I need rules. We need rules.”
Boundaries. Guard rails. A prison to keep the feelings raging inside me at bay. “You’re not. It was part of our contract, and I have no intention of reneging.”
Ella’s lips part for a brief moment as though to say something, but then she walks away, leaving nothing to grasp but her scent in front of me.
“I’m going to rest,” she says, pausing. “I’m a little worn out after the flight, but we should review our backstory in an hour or so. I want to be prepared for the rehearsal dinner.”
“Nervous?”
She turns around, her fingers toying with the fabric cinched around her waist. “Aren’t you?”
I shake my head, staring at her fingers. Her petal-pink nails. Remembering how soft they felt in my hand. How soft they’d feel wrapped… “Not at all.”
She laughs, and that sweet noise envelops me. There’s no better sound than that. She has no clue how powerless I am to it. And there’s no reason to be nervous when Ella’s at my side. We’ll make it through.
“Of course. You’re not the one who has to memorize a long list of fake attributes. Names. Family histories. Fake dates and vacations that we’ve been on but somehow have no pictures of. How am I supposed to explain why we don’t have any pictures of us together?” She groans. “And why did you have to tell them I’m a vegetarian? And opera? What world do you think I live in? And another thing?—”
I can’t help but smile as Ella’s voice dissipates into the background. My vision tunnels, focusing on her. On those sweet lips, moving as she lobs a laundry list of complaints at me. Watching how her chest rises and falls beneath that thin fabric I want to strip from her like wrapping paper on Christmas morning. All I see in front of me is perfection, and I can’t help but stare, my smile deepening at her as her rant crescendos.
Fuuuuck . She’s gorgeous.
“What?” she asks after finally taking a breath as she stands with arms akimbo.
“You have no idea what you’re doing to me, do you?”
Her eyes widen as her mouth bobs. “Dressing you down?”
I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to redirect my attention away from thoughts of undressing her.
She shakes her head, eyes boring into mine. “I’ll see you in one hour.”
“One hour,” I repeat, watching her as she turns on her heel, hips swaying as she walks into the bedroom. She closes the door, and I can finally breathe again.
This woman. Can’t imagine going through this weekend with anyone else.
My phone buzzes, and I check the text. Surprisingly, Asher’s been silent. Haven’t had a single call or text about work. It’s strange. But it’s even stranger that I haven’t thought about work until now.
Mom: I hope you like your room! There must have been a mix-up. That suite was too big! You two need something cozier. I hope you two enjoy the champagne!
You’d think that after I’d made my first billion, my mother would look at me as an adult and not some clueless kid she has to manage. Apparently, not. At least there’s a silver lining: I have proof I can show Ella that I had nothing to do with this.
As annoying as this is, it shouldn’t be difficult to fix. I’ll head down to the front desk and have our rooms switched back. Nothing could be easier.
* * *
“Everything is booked? Check again.” I rest my forearms against the edge of the counter, hoping that, through some miracle, this woman finds me a room.
“Okay,” the attendant chirps, turning to her monitor as she begins hammering away at the keyboard.
After what feels like hours, she looks at me and repeats the same spiel.
“I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do. Everything is booked. We have multiple wedding blocks this weekend and a few conferences. We’re full.”
“I’ll pay ten times the amount.”
She shakes her head. “There’s nothing I can—actually,” she says as she starts typing again. “I can have a cot sent up.”
“A cot?”
She nods. “Yes, it folds out. It will be just like camping,” she adds giddily.
I stare at her silently for a few moments as she maintains that same smile. “Okay.”
I push away from the desk and then press my fingers into my eyes, attempting to rub out my annoyance. But when I open my eyes, I’m met with a different predicament. One that I hadn’t expected to deal with ten minutes after arriving at the hotel: Max and Sariah walking directly toward me, hand-in-hand.
It’s surreal. I haven’t seen Sariah since we broke up. And seeing her with Max? It’s strange.
“Adrian,” Max says, pulling me into a hug. “How was the flight? The room? Is Gabriella here?”
I’m assaulted by a rapid fire of questions, each one requiring a different answer, so I simply disregard all of them.
“Everything’s fine, Max.” I keep my voice level as Sariah’s eyes burn a hole in the side of my head.
“Good to see you, Adrian.”
I turn, smiling at her as her features begin to soften. “You too.” I lean in, hugging her before planting a quick peck on her cheek and pulling away. “Congrats to you both. You two make a wonderful couple.”
“Thanks,” Max says before glancing around. “Where’s Gabriella? She’s here, right?” He fingers my shirt sleeve, taking a peek beneath it.
“Of course.” I readjust my sleeve. “She’s resting in the room. Long flight.”
“Good,” Max says before glancing awkwardly at Sariah who then shakes her head, giving him a look that’s bringing back some memories. Tread lightly, it says.
“What?”
“It’s nothing,” Max says with a laugh. “It’s just—okay, a few of us… Well, Lillian thought Gabriella was made up. An elaborate hoax.”
I laugh, hoping it masks the panic rising in me. “Why would she think that?”
I hardly knew Lillian, Sariah’s little sister. She’d always hang around when I’d visit, but our interactions were limited, so I’m not sure how she’d come to that conclusion. Still, it’s making me a little more uncomfortable about this situation.
“It’s not like you’ve been very open with your relationship. No one’s seen a picture of her, let alone one of you two together. It’s?—”
“Well, you’ll see her soon enough.” I interrupt because the longer they speculate, the tougher this might be.
“And so will Lillian,” Sariah says. “We just ran into her. She’s on her way up to your room. She’s offered to bring Ella along with her and the rest of the bridal party for a spa day before the rehearsal dinner. Her treat! Since Ella couldn’t make the bachelorette party.”
My stomach drops. This is not… ideal. The last thing Ella needs right now is another surprise. And this is one I have no control over. She’s going to have to navigate it alone. Shit. Maybe if I rush back to the room, I can think of something.
“Great,” I say through gritted teeth. “Ella will love that. If you’ll ex?—”
My phone buzzes in my pocket, sending my stomach into freefall. I don’t have to look to know who’s texting. When I see the message on the screen, my suspicion is confirmed, and I can feel the color drain from my skin.
Ella: HELP. ME. NOW.
“If you’ll excuse me,” I say, backing away. I slide my phone back in my pocket. “Something came up.”
“Work?” I can’t help but feel the barbs coming from Sariah.
“Something like that.”
I’m halfway down the hall to our room when I hear it: an aria like none I’ve ever heard. It’s nothing less than high-pitched screeching. It’s as though someone picked the most obnoxious opera music and cranked it to one hundred.
Oh… no.
When I open the door, Ella immediately locks eyes with me. If looks could kill, I’d be dead ten times over. My entire unborn bloodline for generations would be crushed. She’s sitting on the couch amid chaos. Women in various states of undress weave around each other, oblivious to me as they try on the dresses and outfits I had my stylist pick out for Ella.
“Adrian,” a soft voice coos at me as I feel two arms wrap around me. I look down to find Lillian blinking up at me. Although I’ve hardly interacted with her, I recognize those expressive green eyes and a smattering of freckles in a line under her eyes and across the bridge of her nose.
“Lillian,” I offer in a way of greeting.
“I was hoping to see you before whisking off your wonderful woman. I hope you don’t mind,” she adds, smiling up at me.
“No.” I sigh, trying to catch Ella’s eyes again. “Not at all.”
Fuck. We’ve hardly been here twenty minutes, and things are already out of hand. We were supposed to be inseparable—a united front. We haven’t had the chance to solidify our backstory, and now Ella’s going to be interrogated by my ex’s entire bridal party. Just looking around the room, I can feel their gazes piercing me like daggers.
I recognize only a handful of the women, but it’s clear I’m the last person they want to see.
“I wanted to make Gabby feel welcome, so I played some of her favorite music. Trudy’s been so helpful with information on your…” She pauses, eyes locked on me as she drags a finger down my bicep. “Friend. Strange taste, but that’s fine.”
I grab her hand and pull it away from my arm. “Girlfriend. And it’s Gabriella. Or Ella.” My jaw tenses as I vaguely pay attention to Lillian, trying my best to find Ella in the crowd of women. But even with all the varied perfumes and scents filling the room, I can still pick out Ella’s.
“Oh? Trudy kept that one to herself. I had no idea. But it seems that either Trudy has it wrong or I misheard. Everything I know about…” She clears her throat. “Gabriella seems to be wrong. She hates the opera music I picked for her, and she hasn’t touched her eggplant burger or root vegetable medallions.”
“We ate on the flight. Now, if you’d excuse me,” I say, finally spotting Ella, her eyes boring into me from across the room.
Lillian harrumphs as I slip away and stride through the crowd. Ella’s talking with a woman I can’t place.
“Adrian,” the woman says as I approach. “So good to see you again.” She rocks onto the balls of her feet and kisses both of my cheeks.
“You too,” I say, ignoring the fact that I have no clue who she is.
“We were just talking about your cat.”
I swallow. Glance at Ella as she sucks in her bottom lip, trying her best to hold back a fit of laughter. And then I turn back to the woman. “My cat?”
“Snickerdoodle! It’s such a wonderful name, and Ella was telling me the story about how you nursed the poor thing back to health. All those fleas. The mange. How she slept in the crook of your neck and wouldn’t leave your side, so you had to bring her to work with you in a little carrying case.” The woman cups her hands in front of her, nearly swooning as she recounts the story of my nonexistent cat.
I blink slowly, shaking my head as I slowly peer at Ella as the woman continues talking. Well played, Ella. But two can play this game. And when I play, I never lose.
“And you did it all for Ella, even though you were allergic.”
“All of it true,” I say as Ella turns around, her cheeks ruddy and bottom lip swollen. There’s no more perfect sight or perfect opportunity.
I step forward, grabbing Ella by the wrist and pulling her into me. Her body tenses for a moment as she looks up at me. I slide my hand under her arm, resting it on the small of her back while I brush stray curls away from her face. I can feel her chest heaving against my body.
And her scent. Fuck . I’m a goner.
“Anything for love.” My voice is thick and raspy as I stare at her perfect lips.
Her tongue slips between them before retreating as she stares at mine, and then up at my eyes. There’s no hesitancy in her gaze. No deer in the headlights. Anticipation. Desire. Heat? I feel it all as I lean in, finally coming close to tasting those sweet lips of hers.
Her eyes close as everything around us seems to recede as Ella’s lips, the way she feels in my arms, and a burning need to claim her mouth come into sharp focus.
One more inch. One more inch. My muscles tighten along with my grip around her as my body is electrified, until it feels like it has been doused with water as Lillian squeals behind us.
“Time to go, ladies!”
Both of us turn to face Lillian. She’s heading for us.
“Gabs get your butt over here. You’re riding with me.”
Ella glances at me and sighs. “Lucky me.”
“Lucky you.”
Fuck. I should kiss her now, but she slips from my grasp. I snatch her hand before she gets too far away. Her eyes flare as I tug her toward me. I let out a throaty rasp. Swallow.
“We’ll finish this later.”
She stares at me for a brief moment, heat simmering beneath her gaze. But then she smiles. “So long as I haven’t been arrested for murder.”
I raise a brow.
“I’m not ruling anything out if Lillian keeps calling me Gabs.”
I kiss her hand. It’s a poor substitute for what I want to do to her, but I’ll take it for now. She’s momentarily flustered, cheeks blooming with color before she turns and strides away, turning back only once to say, “Don’t forget to check in on Snickerdoodle.”
How could I forget?