Chapter eleven
~ADRIAN~
I cinch my belt and pull open the drawer housing my collection of ties.
I roll my shoulders in an attempt to loosen up the fabric of the tuxedo that clings to me, constraining my movements.
I’m going to rip this thing. With a deep sigh, I look down at the bowties nestled in the left corner of the drawer.
I retrieve two and walk over to the full-length mirror in my walk-in closet.
I haven’t worn a bowtie since the charity ball hosted by Victoria’s father.
Now, his company is launching a new fragrance that I couldn’t care less about.
I’d always wondered why Victoria chose to work with me over her father.
I stopped asking myself that question the moment I met the guy.
Not that I’m complaining. Victoria is an asset I’d rather have on my side.
Standing before the mirror, I hold the red bowtie up to my neck.
Yeah, that’ll do. With a few flicks of my wrist, I secure it around my collar and put the black one back in the drawer.
My grandfather taught me how to put one on the night of my prom since my father wasn’t present to teach me.
I blink the thought away as I slip a matching linen handkerchief inside the tuxedo pocket and turn to face the mirror again.
With a final adjustment of the bowtie, I cast a critical eye over the outfit, satisfied with the reflection staring back at me.
Thoughts of Elana dance through my mind as I run a hand through my hair.
She should be done with choosing an outfit for tonight.
I hope she’s put my card to good use and picked something appropriate.
A subtle smile tugs at the corner of my lips as I imagine her gracing the event in another duck dress. God forbid.
I reach for my phone and send Ethan a quick text, letting him know our plans. Sending Ethan updates has become routine. We used to talk regularly, but now, it’s evolved into a daily occurrence. The ding of a new message pulls my attention back to my phone.
Have fun. I have a date with that girl from the office I told you about.
A small smile quirks across my lips as I read Ethan’s message and then type out a reply of my own.
Seems like you’ll be the one having fun tonight. Spare me the details.
We’ve been thick as thieves since childhood when we used to pull off ridiculous stunts that only got us into more and more trouble.
When we were nine, we had convinced Mr. Jenkins, the old neighbor, that his garden was infested by snails.
We collected them each morning and dropped them on his porch right before he stepped out for the morning paper.
Mr. Jenkins spent weeks getting rid of the ‘infestation’.
This was the first of many pranks that landed us in a shit ton of hot water and ended with both of us being forced to issue formal apologies to the entire neighborhood.
I shake my head with a smile and put my phone back into my pocket.
Ethan has been more than a good friend to me.
He never left my side, even when things became…
difficult. He never failed to reach out, even when I had isolated myself from everyone in pursuit of becoming an entrepreneur.
Despite me saying no to almost every plan he offered, he never stopped calling and never gave up on our friendship.
I knew he would drop everything and be there in a heartbeat if I ever needed him.
That is something I’ll never be able to repay, but I’ll try my very best.
I descend the staircase, the soft glow of the chandeliers reflecting on the polished floor as I make my way through the living room and into the kitchen.
With each step, I half-expect to find Elana perched on one of the counters again, but to my disappointment, the kitchen is empty.
Bypassing the island in the middle, I stop in front of the wine cabinet. Seems I’m in the mood for reds tonight.
I uncork a bottle and pour myself a glass, briefly contemplating pouring one for Elana, too, but she's never shown a preference for wine during her brief time here. Maybe I should make her tea instead? I scoff and take a second glass from the cabinet. As I pour us both wine, my thoughts drift to the messages Elana showed me earlier today. If the fucker sending her warnings is indeed her ex, I’ll relish in the thought of breaking each of his fingers.
I’ve given the number Elana sent me to a specialist who can track it.
It’s not entirely legal, but that’s not a concern where the right amount of money is involved.
I take a sip and place the glass on the island, tapping it absentmindedly with my finger.
Does Elana have any intentions of showing up anytime soon?
I’m tempted to go back upstairs and drag her out of the room myself, but the memory of my last unannounced visit there tells me to stay exactly where I am.
I won’t extend the courtesy of closing the door if I find her in that state again. Heat spreads through me and pools deep within my lower half. Oh, I definitely won’t be as nice.
What the hell is she doing up there? Impatience gnaws at me.
Were it not for the notification confirming the use of my AMEX, I’d suspect she hadn’t found a dress.
Three thousand dollars was spent in a single transaction, followed by six hundred more just twenty minutes later.
A smirk plays on my lips as I take another sip of wine. She sure knows how to spend money.
The sound of hesitant footsteps in heels echoes through the living room, drawing my attention—finally.
“Adrian?” Elana’s voice is soft as she calls my name before she enters the kitchen.
Holy. Fuck. I’m momentarily speechless, my eyes going over the woman before me. She’s wearing a sleeveless red velvet dress that clings to every inch of skin it can reach. Three thousand dollars well fucking spent. My gaze drifts down to where her cleavage plunges. No bra.
I narrow my eyes, and my hand twitches to slip in a finger and yank the fabric down. I finish my wine as I struggle to keep my thoughts in check. I am most definitely in the mood for reds tonight.
“I’m ready.” Her voice is tentative, almost as if she’s unsure if she should disturb me. Right now, I’m not sure she should either.
“Late is what you are,” I manage, my voice huskier than intended. And fucking breathtaking.
Her eyes flicker down to the floor, a blush coloring her cheeks as she apologizes, “I’m sorry, I couldn’t decide on a clutch and jewelry.”
I walk over to the counter, pour myself another glass of wine, and take hers from where I’d left it. I watch from the corner of my eye as hers travel up and down my body before she takes a sharp breath. She’s checking me out. I fight the urge to want to touch her.
“I allowed myself the freedom to pour you a glass of wine.” I turn to face her.
Fuck, she’s glowing. Her hair is in an elegant bun, a wavy strand spilling across her face.
I hand her the glass and brush my fingers against hers on purpose as she takes it.
Her breathing betrays her, immediately picking up pace as our fingers touch.
“You look lovely, Elana.” I mean it with every ounce of blood rushing to my cock right now. My hands itch to feel the dress, to lift it over her hips and bend her over the kitchen island. Her cheeks turn rosy pink, a grin spreading across her face.
“You look really nice too.” Her giggle surprises me as she lifts a hand to her lips.
“Something funny?” I raise a brow, prompting another giggle from her.
“We’re matching.” She points to my neck. Oh, the bowtie.
“It seems we are.” I cock my head to the side as her eyes sparkle with amusement.
“I guess I should return this,” she says, opening her clutch and digging through it. “Oh, no!” Her eyes widen as she looks up at me. “The card! I’ve lost it.”
“You lost my card?” My brows shoot up.
“It’s not here.” She continues to dig through her little purse as I pinch the bridge of my nose.
Countless appropriate punishments flash through my mind as I try to push them away.
One, two, three… I breathe through my nose and count to ten.
No new transactions have been made after her last one, which was hours ago.
“When did you see it last?” I keep my voice as calm as I can.
I don’t give two shits about the card. It’s her irresponsibility that’s the problem.
I look at her, but she’s not looking back at me.
She has her back to me, her chest shaking gently.
What is she doing? “Elana, look at me.” I take a couple of steps towards her, but she simply buries her face in her hands.
“Elana?” Is she crying? It takes everything I have to stop myself from jerking her chin towards me.
A tight pain squeezing my chest like a python at the thought of her being this upset.
Suddenly, she jumps and looks up at me, holding the card. “Gotcha!” She laughs, clutching her belly.
“What?” I furrow my brows and take a step back.
“I’m joking!” Her eyes sparkle with amusement as she looks down at the card. “But seriously, you should really take it before I actually lose it.” She hands it to me with a smile, and I slowly take it from her.
She was fucking with me? I’m so dumbfounded that I don’t even notice when my lips turn up in a grin.
“You’re smiling!” She claps her hands and bends her knees. “I got you so good.”
You have no idea. I cock my head to the side, my grin subsiding into a smirk. “Are you proud of yourself?”
She’s taller because of the heels, but she still hardly reaches my neck. She looks up, and her vibrant green eyes meet mine.
“Very.” Her smile is sweet, and her eyes are filled with that same fire I remember.
I gesture for Elana to climb into the backseat of the car before me, and I smile to myself. If only she knew the magnificent view of her ass I’m getting. I follow suit, giving Mac a nod before settling in beside her.
“I hope we’re not too late because of me.
” She lets out a breathy laugh as one hand fidgets with her clutch before setting it down beside her.
I can sense the tension radiating off her, the subtle tremble in her hands as she clasps them in her lap.
The playful Elana is gone, replaced by the same nervous girl who walked into my office.
For a fleeting moment, I hesitate, uncertain how to ease her nerves.
Nothing I say seems appropriate, even if I knew how to comfort people.
Then, almost instinctively, I reach out and take her hand in mine, gently squeezing it.
Her hand is small, and my skin glides along hers like a feather.
I feel her fingers tense at the contact, her breath catching in her throat as she looks up at me.
Yes, I know you feel it too, little duck.
I see the flicker of nervousness give way to something deeper.
She looks at me the same way I’ve looked at her when she doesn’t know I’m watching—with lust-filled eyes.
My heart quickens at the realization, my hand lingering on hers for a moment longer than intended.
I slowly slip my hand off hers and place it on her thigh.
Elana’s lips part, and she sucks in a breath, but she doesn’t stop me.
I feel the softness of her flesh through the dress, and I fight the urge to squeeze it, to slip my hand down her inner thigh and part her legs.
I want to glide my hand between them and tell her to keep quiet as I gently rub her through the fabric.
Heat travels straight to my cock, and I feel blood filling it.
Luckily, this tuxedo doesn’t allow me the luxury of a hard-on.
Get your hand off of her. The voice of reason breaks through the haze of desire, reminding me of the situation that we’re in.
I can’t touch her. I can’t have her the way I want to.
And in this moment, I admit to myself that I want all of her.
But I’m threading a fine line, and if I move an inch, I’m crossing boundaries I shouldn’t.
Fuck! With a sudden jolt, I withdraw my hand as if it’s been scalded, my gaze turning away from hers. I can still hear her shallow breaths, no doubt confused by what’s happened. You’re not the only one.
“No reason to be nervous about the event,” I murmur, the words coming out more abruptly than intended. “It’ll be over before you know it.”