Chapter eight
~ELANA~
Hours have ticked by since I returned from classes, and there’s still no sign of Adrian. Mac mentioned he might be home late, granting me the rare opportunity to roam the penthouse without feeling under surveillance.
There weren’t any unpleasant encounters with Carson today.
Hopefully, it’s because he’s finally given up.
Unfortunately, knowing Carson, that’s not likely.
I stole a moment to call Lilly and explain why her grand house party plans had to be shelved.
My ears are still ringing from the squeal she produced when I told her I’m staying with Adrian.
As I stand in the kitchen, a wave of embarrassment washes over me as I recall the dream I had earlier.
“No.” I press my hands to my face in embarrassment.
Seeing Adrian shirtless shouldn’t have led to such a dream, but there it was, vivid and ridiculously realistic.
I shudder at the recollection, praying fervently that I didn't engage in any sleep-talk antics.
I would have to pack my stuff and pay Ethan a visit in LA if even a sound escaped my lips in my sleep.
With a deep breath, I let my hands fall and scan the unfamiliar cabinets, trying to recall why I ventured into the kitchen.
Ah, yes, tea. I quickly open and close cabinets until I find the one with coffee and tea.
The brands are all unfamiliar and clearly leagues above my usual budget.
I look through the assortment of flavors until I spot the forest fruit one.
I climb on the counter, careful not to knock anything over, and reach for the tea.
As I’m perched on the countertop, the sound of movement slices through the air, causing me to startle.
“Quite the acrobat, aren’t we?” Adrian’s voice cuts through the air like a blade, chilling me to the bone as he looms behind me.
Slowly, I turn to meet his piercing gaze.
His tie is gone, the top buttons of his shirt undone, and his hair looks wind-blown.
It’s impossible to look at him and not be reminded of my dream, which feels more like a memory.
“Hey.” I offer him a hesitant smile, but it’s met with cold indifference.
He takes long, lazy strides towards me, his eyes locked with mine.
“I’m just trying to get the tea.” I point up to the container of forest fruit tea and watch as he effortlessly reaches up and retrieves it.
He hands me the glass container, not breaking eye contact.
“Thanks.” My voice comes out in a whisper, and I quickly clear my throat while taking the tea from his outstretched hand.
“Honey?” His voice is low. Did he just call me honey?
“Yes?” My eyebrows shoot up. The feeling of being at the same eye-level as him now that I’m kneeling on the counter is unnerving. His eyes dart up, and he reaches once more, retrieving a jar of… honey. Shit. My cheeks immediately heat from the embarrassment.
He’s not calling you honey, dumbass.
“Uh, do you want a cup of tea?” It’s all I can think of saying to distract myself from the embarrassment.
“Sure.” His smirk is more of a sneer. He’s definitely laughing at me.
“It’ll be ready soon. I just need to, um.” My eyes dart between him and the floor. He follows my gaze and moves aside so I can slide off the counter. “I’ll make the tea now.” I swallow hard and look up at him.
His piercing gaze lingers on me for a moment longer, his eyes betraying none of the warmth I’d hoped to find in them. Have I done something wrong? In that cold, calculating stare, I sense a warning.
“One teaspoon of honey.” He lifts a long finger and then points it at the kitchen island. “Leave it here.” He turns and exits the kitchen.
Is he on edge because of work? Options pass through my mind as I turn the electric kettle on and put two teaspoons of tea into the pot.
Did I say something to upset him? Maybe no one’s climbed on his counters before, and he was just stunned to find me there.
The thought makes me crack a little smile until I realize I’m only wearing an oversized T-shirt.
He must have seen my underwear while I was reaching for the tea.
I squeeze my eyes shut and shake my head. That would explain his behavior. I only put it on because I thought I’d be asleep by the time he came home. I look down to make sure I’m not wearing an ugly pair of panties, as if that would make the situation any less mortifying.
As I pour the steaming tea into the cup, my hands tremble slightly, betraying my nerves.
The scent of forest fruit fills the air, but a sudden jolt causes me to spill some of the tea onto my shirt.
Panic grips me as the burning liquid spreads across the fabric and onto my skin, staining it with a vibrant hue.
“Ow, fuck!” Cursing under my breath, I hastily set the teapot aside and abandon the tea, making a beeline for the staircase. I need to change and rinse the shirt before the stain sets in. As I ascend the steps, the burning sensation dies down.
Reaching my room, I quickly peel off my stained shirt.
This is not a fancy shirt, but it’s Ethan’s, and he would kill me if he knew I not only borrowed it but ruined it as well.
But as I turn around to walk to the bathroom, a shockwave of horror courses through me as I come face to face with Adrian standing right outside my open door.
Shit, I must have forgotten to close it.
His expression is dark and furious. Before I can react, he reaches for the door and slams it shut, leaving me alone.
“Fuck,” I whisper, staring at the door wide-eyed. A few breaths later, I scramble to cover myself, my hands shaking with the embarrassment of Adrian seeing me in only my bra.
After I’ve changed my shirt and mustered the courage to head downstairs and clean up the spill, I slowly poke my head out the door.
I take a deep breath, trying to steady my racing heart as I gather the courage to face Adrian.
The embarrassment burns hot on my cheeks.
He saw me shirtless! The thought that we’re now even in that regard is not lost on me.
The memory of his muscled back flashes in my mind.
Slowly, I make my way back downstairs, steeling myself for the inevitable confrontation. As I enter the kitchen, I see Adrian standing by the counter, adding honey to his tea. If he knows I’m here, he doesn’t show it.
“I’m sorry about… you know, and about the spill,” I say tentatively, gesturing to the overflowing teacup next to his.
“I seem to have a knack for spilling drinks.” I try to joke, but it falls flat.
He sets his spoon aside and turns to face me.
Fury. There’s fury written all over his face. Why is he so angry?
“You seem to have a knack for leaving doors open when you shouldn’t.” I bristle at his tone but gather my courage to tell him that he’s no better.
“That makes two of us.” I raise my chin, hoping I don’t regret this later.
His eyes narrow, and I can see the anger simmering beneath the surface.
“Is that so?” he growls, taking a step closer to me. Every muscle in my body protests, but I stand my ground.
“Yes. You left your door open, and I saw.”
“And what exactly did you see?” His tone is calm, despite his eyes.
“I saw you…without your shirt on.” I close my eyes for a moment, hoping my cheeks don’t turn red.
Adrian’s lips quirk into a sardonic smile, but there’s no warmth in his eyes.
The silence is unbearable, and my mouth opens before I can shut it.
“I’m just saying that it’s hypocritical of you to be angry when you’re not innocent yourself.
” I have to keep reminding myself to breathe.
“Is that your way of justifying your behavior?” he murmurs, his voice dangerously low. A muscle feathers his jaw, and I tear my eyes away.
I swallow hard, feeling a surge of both fear and desire coursing through me. No one should look this good when scolding someone.
“Yes,” I answer, my voice barely above a whisper.
Adrian steps even closer until there’s barely any space between us. I meet his gaze defiantly, refusing to back down despite my heart threatening to break free. There’s a charged silence between us, the tension crackling like electricity. I can feel the heat of his body radiating against mine.
“So, you saw me shirtless, huh?” Adrian murmurs, his voice tinged with a dangerous edge. Before I can respond, he leans in closer, his lips brushing against my ear. “I’m sure you really enjoyed yourself after that, little duck,” he whispers, his breath hot against my skin.
Electricity hits me low in my belly as I fight to take a breath. Enjoy myself after? What is that supposed to mean? He pulls away, reaches for his tea, and walks out of the kitchen. What the hell just happened?
As I slowly awaken in the plush comfort of the bed, my eyes adjust to the soft morning light filtering through the sheer curtains. A smile spreads across my lips, appreciating how lovely Adrian’s made the room for me… despite his behavior last night. I quickly turn off the nightlight and stretch.
The memory of our conversation in the kitchen still lingers in my mind—his hot breath on my ear, his piercing eyes pinning me in place.
Shaking off the thoughts, I make my way to the bathroom for a refreshing shower, letting the warm water soothe my tense muscles.
After drying off and getting dressed, I opt for jeans and a white sweater.
I don’t want to waste any more time, so I put my hair up in a ponytail and pop in two gold earrings to add some detail to the outfit.
As I descend the stairs and make my way into the kitchen, my thoughts still linger on Adrian. Is he here? I open the fridge, contemplating my breakfast options, when I’m startled by Mac’s voice behind me.
“Good morning, Miss Elana.” It took me our entire drive home yesterday to make him call me Elana. I guess “Miss Elana” is the best I’m gonna get.
I turn to face him, offering a smile. “Good morning, Mac. Is Adrian around?”
“Mr. Morgan has already left for the office.”
“He’s already gone?” But Mac’s still here? I thought he’d be driving us both.
Mac nods, seemingly understanding my confusion. “Yes, he drove himself to the office today.”
“Oh, well, I’ll be ready in a minute, Mac. I’m just looking for some breakfast. I won’t be long.”
“I’ll be waiting by the elevator.”
I thank Mac and watch as he disappears from the kitchen. I take one last look at the fridge with a sigh. It’s full of ingredients but nothing I have the time to prepare. I guess I’ll get something from the restaurant later.
“Alright, Elana, now this part here is crucial.” Ryan is standing over me, pointing to a spreadsheet on his computer screen.
“This is where we separate the financial wizards from the mere mortals.” We’ve been at this for an hour now, and his humor is the only thing keeping me from zoning out completely.
This is so boring.
“So, you and the rest of us.” I chuckle at his dramatic flair. “No pressure, right?”
“None at all,” he replies with a grin. “But the fate of the entire company rests on your ability to master this spreadsheet.”
“That’s why I’m here,” I play along, pretending to wipe sweat from my brow.
Despite his position as the head of the financial department, Ryan has such an easygoing nature that it’s hard to picture him ordering someone around.
His humor is infectious, and I find myself laughing along with him more often than not.
Adrian definitely made the right choice when he asked him to show me around.
He’s like the embodiment of a golden retriever—friendly, approachable, and always ready to help. In stark contrast, there’s Adrian.
Perhaps it takes a certain level of callousness to helm such a formidable company.
Adrian has always had a brooding aura about him, but there used to be moments of levity, glimpses of a mischievous grin that hinted at a playful, boyish side.
Now, all I see is a man who commands authority, can kill with a look if he tries hard enough, and can make you dream about the feel of his hands on you—
Stop.
I hear my tummy rumble, reminding me I missed breakfast. Before I can check the time, Ryan is already glancing at his watch.
“Hungry?” he asks, lowering his hand into his pocket.
“I’m okay,” I lie, and I hear another sound of protest from my stomach.
“The sound that just came out of you tells a different story.” He chuckles and reaches to save the progress I’ve made on the spreadsheet. “Come on. My treat.”
The invitation catches me by surprise, but I’m quick to accept, mostly because the only thing on the menu I can afford is to walk right out of there.
“Thank you.” I quickly grab my phone and purse and follow him to the elevator.
The courtyard is buzzing with people having lunch and conversations about topics I probably need a dictionary to decipher. Ryan leads me into the restaurant opposite the café, and the hostess is quick to greet us.
“Mr. Stevenson!” She smiles at Ryan, and he offers a curt nod. “Table for two?”
“Yes, please.” Another nod from Ryan gets the hostess going through a digital map of the restaurant on the large touch screen next to her.
“Great! Follow me.”
As we make our way to the table, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I fish it out and tap the screen to find a text from an unknown number. I furrow my brows and open it. A photo of me entering Morgan Investments is staring back at me, and it is accompanied by a message: “I’m always watching.”