Chapter 13 Mia
A gentle rustling stirs me awake, the mattress shifting as Adrian slips out of bed. I keep my eyes closed, still relishing the sweet achy feeling in my body and especially between my legs, as a reminder of the passion that swept through between me and Adrian last night. I was reluctant to let morning intrude on my languid state of being. When I hear the murmur of his voice coming from the living room, curiosity tugs at me. I push myself up, tiptoeing just close enough to catch fragments of his conversation.
“What if... what if we try to turn her?” I hear him say, his voice low but firm. “I’ll get her to switch.”
A chill spreads through me as his words sink in. Switch sides. He’s planning to convince me to betray my family, to abandon everything I’ve known. A wave of betrayal and anger rises, but I quickly return to bed, pulling the covers over myself as I hear his steps approaching the room.
A moment later, Adrian leans over, a gentle smile on his face as he offers a steaming cup of coffee. “Morning, beautiful,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. I force a sleepy smile, struggling to hide the turmoil churning inside me as he settles next to me on the edge of the bed, his gaze warm and affectionate.
“You feeling okay?” he asks, his hand brushing down my arm with surprising tenderness.
“Yeah,” I say softly, taking a sip of the coffee to steady myself. I can’t help but feel a twinge of hope, wishing his gestures of care were genuine. But his phone call echoes in my mind, grounding me in a harsh reality: he might be playing me for the sake of his family’s plan.
“Thought I’d try making breakfast,” he says, offering me a playful grin that would have melted me under different circumstances. “Can’t promise it’ll be any good, though.”
I follow him to the kitchen, watching with an amused smile as he fumbles with the pan and bacon. His efforts are almost endearing—if it weren’t for the lingering suspicion in my chest.
Smoke starts to rise from the skillet, and I jump in to help, nudging him aside and flipping the bacon before it burns. He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Guess cooking’s not my strong suit.”
“It’s the thought that counts,” I say, rescuing the food as best as I can, even managing to soften my voice despite the weight pressing on my heart.
As we settle at the counter, his phone pings repeatedly with messages, his eyes darting toward the screen. I catch a glimpse at one of the notifications he silences: Massimo wants an update on the girl.
The reminder stings, a cruel reality breaking through the tender facade of our morning. Adrian seems genuinely warm and caring, but it’s clear his allegiance lies with his family, with Massimo. Every smile, every touch suddenly feels like a part of the plan, a scheme to win my loyalty—or my betrayal.
I keep my face composed, forcing myself to match his lighthearted banter, all the while feeling the gap widen between us. Adrian may be showing me warmth and affection, but I remind myself that these gestures, no matter how sincere they seem, might only be tools in his arsenal.
And as much as I wish to believe in the softness I’ve seen in him, I know better than to let my guard down.