Chapter 4
FOUR
Madi
“ A re you okay?” My eyes flicker open to find my fiancé sitting in front of me. I’m on a leather couch now, in a really pretty house with high ceilings, white curtains covering the windows, and a sparkling chandelier hanging above me. My guess is we’re still in the Quarter and this is his house he was talking about.
“Where am I?” I ask.
“My place,” he answers gruffly.
How did I get here? I must have fallen asleep in his car.
“Here.” Adrian hands me a bottle of water and two pills. I look at him skeptically.
“Tylenol, Madi. I’m not going to drug you. How low do you think of me?”
My eyes widen at that question. Does he really want to know what I think of him?
“Don’t answer that,” he says with a huff. Once I take the pills from him, he rubs his hands down his thighs and avoids looking at me for a long moment. I take the pause to look at him instead. He’s still handsome, a fact that pisses me off. It would be easier to hate him if my mind and body weren’t trying to betray me at every turn. He’s still wearing a suit—he’s always wearing a fucking suit. I don’t even know why that makes me angry. I just want to see him looking like a normal human being in sweatpants and a t-shirt for once.
There’s blood on his clothes. Flecks of it spotting the pure white button-down and dried on his knuckles. I briefly remember the sight of him punching the guy who tried to touch me. My stomach falls as I recall what almost happened. What Adrian stopped from happening.
He lifts a hand, running it through his dark, perfectly cut hair. His fingers destroy the gel that was holding the locks in place and now his dark hair looks wild and imperfect. For some reason, I like him better like this.
As if he can feel me staring, his head whips back around, dark eyes fixated on me.
“What are you looking at?”
“Nothing,” I spit out quickly, chugging a bit of water to keep myself busy.
A soft chuckle rumbles past his lips. “Ya know…” he says, smiling, “it's okay if you want to admire me. I am your husband, after all.”
“Not yet.”
That makes him smile wider, but he agrees. “No, not yet. But it will happen tomorrow.”
I set the water down gently, trying not to show my spiraling thoughts. Tomorrow . Is it after midnight? Does that mean it’s officially the day before my wedding? The wedding I don’t want. I slide my hands down the side of my dress, looking for where I stuck my phone.
“Here.” As if he knew what I was searching for, he grabs my cell phone from the coffee table he’s sitting on and hands it over to me.
Two a.m.
It’s the day before my wedding and my future husband is sitting in front of me with a scowl on his lips. And I almost got… I can’t even say what almost happened at the club.
The liquor swirls uncomfortably in my stomach, and when I clutch at it, Adrian knows exactly what to expect.
He lifts up a small circular trash can lined with a plastic garbage bag, and I don’t waste any time grabbing it from him and letting all the alcohol go from my stomach into the bin.
I’m still heaving over the can when I feel the couch dip behind me and Adrian’s hand comes to my back, rubbing small circles over the surface of my dress. When I’m done, he helps me to the bathroom. Giving me a toothbrush and watching me through the mirror while I clean myself up. There’re a million questions running through my head. How did he find me? Why did he save me? Why did he bring me here?
Our eyes meet in the reflection of the mirror, two shades of brown staring at each other. Normally, I’m always the first to break the silence. I hate quiet; it leaves everything left unsaid with unbearable tension. But the look in his eyes is dark and filled with something I can’t quite place, and I’m afraid to find out what he wants from me.
“What were you trying to accomplish tonight?” He sounds angry, but like he’s trying to suppress it. I wonder if I should thank him for that. Thank you for not screaming at me like everyone else does. What a great show of restraint.
“Drinking,” I tell him instead.
“Obviously.” He scowls. “It’s not safe, you know that.”
“What do you think is going to happen?” I spit back. “Someone is going to kidnap me? Marcus would kill them.” I huff, crossing my arms.
I feel like the little kid who needs a bodyguard. The annoying one who constantly slips her leash and has to be chased. The bad one who’s loud, mouthy, seeking attention. All those labels have been slapped on me over the years and I’ve shaken each off, not giving a fuck about anyone else’s opinion.
But for some reason, standing in front of Adrian, I feel those words drifting back to me, clinging to me like a second skin.
I am a child. A little girl who has to be chased around and kept out of trouble.
He makes me feel small.
“Jesus,” he hisses. “You make me fucking crazy. Ya know that?” He scrubs a hand over his jaw, through the stubble.
“Easy solution, then. Don’t marry me.”
Within seconds, he has his hands on my waist, spinning me around and caging me against the bathroom counter. His fingers grip onto the edges of the marble, his face is mere inches from mine. We stay like that for a long moment, staring at each other, as my heart thunders at our proximity.
“Why did you even come to the club? Why not leave me the fuck alone?” I try to suppress the venom seeping into my tone, but it still comes out to show him how unhappy I am.
“Jesus, Madi. I came to tell you something.” He backs off now, his hand raking through his hair again.
“What?” I ask, brow furrowing as I watch him pace. “Just tell me.”
“It’s Marcus.”
“What about him?”
“He’s gone.”