Chapter Ten
Isla
I woke to the soft chirp of my phone alarm, still nestled in the cocoon of blankets where I'd tucked it while falling asleep to Adrian's voice last night.
For the fourth night in a row, we'd talked until my eyes grew heavy, his deep rumble lulling me into dreams that left me blushing in the morning light.
The man was addictive.
We talked until my eyelids went heavy; he made me laugh, then made my skin burn in the dark, and somehow always managed to slide into my dreams.
This morning, I woke to find the call still connected, his steady breathing on the other end. Sometimes he muted himself when he had practice, but always kept the call connected.
Proof he’d stayed with me, like he promised.
Stretching beneath my duvet, I smiled at the ceiling. This rhythm with Adrian had become my new normal, and I loved every second of it .
Video filming, painting, shared dinners over the phone, then hours talking until sleep took us. I'd never felt this kind of connection before, this constant awareness of another person existing in my orbit.
My orbit had shifted, though. A few days ago, the influencer world had gone literally crazy around me.
Bailey and Tracy, the friends I'd thought I could trust despite their recent behavior, had been exposed in a brutal scandal.
Their OnlyFans accounts, plastic surgery records, and even their real financial situations leaked across gossip sites like wildfire.
I remembered the shock of seeing those headlines, the grainy screenshots, the vicious comments that followed. The lives they'd built crumbled in hours.
I'd tried calling them, sending text after text, desperate to offer support or at least understand what happened. But my calls went straight to voicemail, and my messages remained unread, hanging in digital silence.
Since then, even my own followers had started asking questions. Comments appeared under my recent posts:
"Girl, what happened with Bailey and Tracy? Are you okay?"
"Is it true about the surgery? They preached about staying natural!”
"Are you still friends with them? Haven't seen you together lately..."
I couldn't answer. Not because I was protecting them, but because I genuinely didn't know what had happened or where we stood.I offered vague responses, heart emojis, and generic "Thanks for your concern" replies.
The whole situation left me feeling unsettled. People I'd thought I knew, however superficially, had vanished from my life without explanation.
Their absence felt less like loss and more like... relief. Which made me feel guilty, then confused, then oddly liberated.
I pushed those thoughts aside as the doorbell rang, startling me from my reverie.
I glanced at the clock—barely 10 AM, too early for package deliveries. Wrapping my fluffy robe around myself, I padded to the door and peered through the peephole.
A woman stood outside… A tall, strong woman dressed in security gear? She was holding a small white box tied with a subtle silver ribbon. No logo, no markings. Just pristine elegance.
"Delivery for Isla Hills," she said when I opened the door, extending the box with a smile.
"Thank you," I murmured, accepting the package. It was light, barely weighing anything at all.
Back in my bedroom, I sat cross-legged on my bed and carefully untied the silver bow, my heart fluttering with anticipation. Somehow, I knew exactly who’d sent this.
The box opened with a whisper, revealing a bed of tissue paper and nestled in its center, a single pale ribbon.
I lifted it with careful fingers, the material so fine it nearly disappeared in the morning light. It was delicate, about an inch wide, perfectly in line with my aesthetic.
As I turned it over, I noticed something on the inner side.
A name embroidered in cursive blue thread.
My breath hitched.
Adrian.
There was no note, no explanation needed. The ribbon spoke for itself—a claim, a request, a test all in one.
I ran it through my fingers, feeling its cool smoothness against my skin.
The news about Bailey and Tracy faded to background noise. This was what mattered. This silk whisper that carried Adrian's name, his intention, his desire to mark me as his.
Noah had given me jewelry a few times—all things I’d like, but somehow casual and unromantic.
This ribbon was subtle, nearly invisible unless you knew to look for it. A private, intimate signal between Adrian and me.
I stood and moved to my mirror, holding the ribbon against my throat. In the morning light, my reflection looked bare: No makeup, hair messy from sleep, eyes wide with something like wonder.
I was seeing myself as Adrian might see me in those quiet moments after our late-night calls, vulnerable and present.
Slowly, I wrapped the ribbon around my neck, tying it in a small, perfect bow at the side.
The silk settled against my skin like a whisper, the embroidered "Adrian" hidden against my pulse where only I would know it existed.
The pale color contrasted gently with my skin, elegant and delicate, a silent declaration.
I touched the ribbon gently, feeling the subtle pressure against my throat as I swallowed.
My phone chimed, reminding me about the sponsored content I needed to film today. I'd nearly forgotten—it was a makeup tutorial featuring the new vintage palette a brand had sent me last week.
They were expecting the video soon, and I’d planned on also doing a livestream tomorrow to show the PR packages I’d received.
I moved through my morning routine in a dreamy daze—making coffee, showering, and selecting my outfit.
I chose pieces that would complement the delicate ribbon: a cream-colored top with pearl buttons, high-waisted baggy jeans, and soft pink ballet flats.
Throughout it all, I was repeatedly reaching up to touch the ribbon, checking it was still there, feeling the smooth silk against my fingertips.
This wasn't just about wearing his mark. It was about acknowledging the truth I'd been sure about since that night in the club:
I wanted Adrian. Not just his body or his attention, but all of him. The wildness and the gentleness. The danger and the care. I wanted to dive headfirst into whatever storm awaited us.
As I set up my ring light and camera, a question crossed my mind… Was I really going to wear his ribbon in a video that thousands would see?
But even as the questions rose, I knew the answers didn't matter .
This wasn't for anyone else. It was for him. For Adrian, who would recognize his mark around my neck and understand exactly what it meant.
Taking a deep breath, I pressed record.
"Hey flowers!" The greeting came naturally, despite my racing heart. "Today we're playing with this absolutely gorgeous vintage palette, and I'm so excited to share these dreamy colors with you."
As I moved through the tutorial, demonstrating how to apply each shade, my hand kept drifting to the ribbon, an unconscious gesture of reassurance.
"This blush palette is perfect for everyday wear," I explained, brushing the reddish-pink powder over my cheekbones. "It's soft enough for the office but can be built up for evening."
Evening. The word conjured images of Adrian and those green eyes, intense in dim lighting, tattooed hands gentle on my waist, mouth hungry against mine.
Would he take me out once we were officially together? Would he show me off, his hand possessive at the small of my back?
Or would he keep me to himself, hidden away in that industrial mansion I'd only glimpsed in the backgrounds of his photos?
Either way, I knew I’d go willingly.
When I finished filming, I spent more time than usual editing the footage. I adjusted the lighting to ensure the ribbon caught the soft glow from my ring light, subtle but unmistakable.
I added my usual filters, my usual captions. The thumbnail needed to be perfect, too. I wanted it to stop Adrian's scrolling thumb completely.
Because it was the moment. A turning point, a bridge between the girl I'd been and the woman I was choosing to become.
Before hitting upload, I watched the video one last time.
The girl on my screen looked like me, but more vibrant, more alive, more authentic despite the careful makeup and styled hair. The ribbon at her throat told a story that only one person would fully understand .
With a deep breath, I hit upload. The video went live at exactly 3 PM.
I set my phone down and stepped onto my balcony, watching the skyline shimmer in the afternoon sun.
Somewhere out there, Adrian was waiting, watching. Soon, he would see the ribbon at my throat and know that I had accepted his silent question.
The minutes ticked by, each one stretching longer than the last.
I imagined him watching my video, those green eyes darkening with recognition, that smile spreading across his face.
Would he call? Text? Show up at my door?
My phone sounded with a notification—a comment on my video.
Love the tutorial! That ribbon is so cute. Where is it from?
I smiled, not bothering to respond. That information wasn't for sharing. Another chime. This one a DM from someone whose opinion I did care about.
@CrewKicks
When did my sister start wearing ribbons? Is this a new thing?
I laughed softly, typing back.
@IslaBelleflower
Just trying something new.
The afternoon wore on, comments accumulating, likes climbing. But not a word from Adrian. My confidence began to waver.
Had I misunderstood? Was the ribbon just a gift, not the symbol I'd taken it for?
The sky began to darken, painting my balcony in gold and rose. I leaned against the railing, watching the city lights blink on one by one.
As the last rays of sunlight faded, my phone finally chimed with a text notification. My heart warmed as I recognized the account name.
@AdrianCatalyst
Such a good angel. Tomorrow at noon. Wear the ribbon.
The message was simple, direct. I pressed the phone to my chest, feeling my heartbeat against my palm, steady and sure despite the adrenaline coursing through my veins.
I looked out over the city one last time, the ribbon a gentle embrace around my throat, the evening breeze cool against my flushed cheeks.
Tomorrow, everything will change. Tomorrow, I will be his completely.