9. Isabella
Chapter nine
Isabella
I stride into the office lobby on Monday, my stomach performing circus tricks. The memory of Saturday night with Adrian lingers like a too-sweet perfume; it’s intoxicating but leaves a cloying aftertaste of what-ifs and whys.
The battle in my head rages on—to tell or not to tell him about the baby. When he suggested keeping it light, I read between the lines: family life isn’t on his menu. And despite my plans for a child-free climb up the career ladder, the thought of ending the pregnancy feels like trying to fit a square peg in a round hole—it just doesn’t sit right.
“Isabella, can you come to my office?” Adrian’s voice breaks through the intercom, pulling me from my internal tug-of-war.
“Sure,” I reply, hoping my voice doesn’t betray the nervous tremble I feel.
I make my way to his door, rehearsing neutral expressions in my mind. But the moment I enter, his smirk unravels all my prep work. It’s infuriating how that one facial twitch can send my pulse into overdrive .
“Close the door, will you?” he says with that commanding edge that somehow also suggests he’d be just as comfortable leaning back with a glass of whiskey in his hand.
As soon as the click of the latch sounds, Adrian crosses the room in two strides, and his lips find mine with an ease that screams he’s done this a thousand times—though, I’d wager, never quite like this. His kiss is a mix of power and tenderness, a contradiction that epitomizes the man before me.
His hands roam, tracing the curves he’s familiar with, and I can’t help the moan that slips out. It’s involuntary, a testament to his skill, and absolutely mortifying.
“Adrian,” I gasp, shoving at his chest. “What are you doing?”
“Reminding you of Saturday,” he murmurs, that damn smile still playing on his lips while he effectively pins me against the door with his body.
“Is this why you called me in?” My voice is steady, but inside, I’m a tornado of conflicting emotions.
Adrian laughs, the sound rich and somehow reassuring. “Actually, no.” He straightens his tie with a quick flick of his wrist. “I need you to join me for a meeting with Aurora and NexGen. It’s about the merger.”
I blink, processing the request. Kate informed me Leo is supposed to be his go-to for these things, but Adrian’s eyes are earnest. “You want me there?”
“Your financial expertise,” he says, brushing his hand along my stomach then down to my hips in a way that’s both distracting and strangely comforting, “is exactly what we need for this discussion. And between us, I think you’ll really impress them. ”
The compliment hits me like a shot of espresso—unexpected, potent, and leaving a warm glow in its wake. Pride swells within me, and for a moment, I forget about the secret pressing against my conscience.
“Thanks,” I manage, trying to sound nonchalant, but there’s a smile tugging at my lips, betraying my pleasure. “My only concern is how unprepared I am.”
“Already had Kate create a PowerPoint for you.”
I raise my brows. Now I’m the one who’s impressed. “Well then, I suppose I have no more objections.”
“Then it’s settled.” He leans in, and his lips capture mine again, a soft demand that sends my heart racing.
“Adrian,” I murmur against his mouth, even as part of me wants to sink into the kiss. “We should go. Now.”
He huffs a laugh, pulling back with a playful roll of his eyes. “Fine, your loss,” he teases, stepping away from me. I push past him, not trusting myself to look back as he follows, a few steps behind, his presence a magnetic force I’m trying desperately not to get lost in.
***
The financial charts on the screen blur into a mess of numbers and graphs as I try to focus. My heart is practically conducting its own merger with my throat, but there’s no backing down now. This is what I do best—crunching numbers, predicting outcomes. It’s my superpower, even if it doesn’t come with a fancy cape.
We’re already at the tail end of the meeting, and so far, everything is going well. Very well.
“Last on the financial agenda. What are your thoughts on the allocation of capital for the upcoming quarter, Ms. King?” Adrian asks, his voice cutting through the tense quiet.
I clear my throat, stand up straighter, and dive in. “Given the projected cash flow from both Aurora and NexGen, reallocating funds toward the marketing sector will maximize their penetration into emerging markets,” I say, tapping the screen to bring up the relevant data.
“Aggressive, yet feasible. I like it. Great job, Ms. King,” Adrian says, nodding his approval before turning to the representatives. They scribble notes, whispering amongst themselves, their gazes shifting between me and the numbers that spell out success in bright, bold digits.
As the meeting winds down, the rep from Aurora hands us over the final piece of business—a joint press statement to hype up the world about our merger. “It’s going to be huge. For everyone involved,” the rep assures us.
Beside me, Adrian smirks. “Cole he doesn’t need to. His eyes lock onto mine, dark pools of concern, curiosity, and something else I can’t quite name.
I look up at him, my throat suddenly dry. I want to say something witty, something sarcastic. But nothing comes out. Just an inaudible gasp, a silent admission. And there we are, in the eye of the storm, waiting to see which way the wind will blow us.