Chapter Twenty-Three
Isla
W armth. That was the first sensation that registered as I drifted in the hazy space between sleep and consciousness.
Adrian's body radiated heat like the fire yesterday, his tattooed chest pressed against my back, arm draped possessively over my waist.
Every muscle felt deliciously heavy, my body pleasantly sore in places that still throbbed with memory.
"Angel," Adrian murmured against my hair, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through me. "Come back to me."
I made a soft sound of protest, burrowing deeper into the impossibly soft sheets. My mind was floating in a cloud of contentment.
Adrian chuckled, the sound rich and warm as his hand stroked up my side, tracing the curve of my hip like he was memorizing me all over again.
"I know you're tired," he soothed, pressing a kiss to my shoulder. " But you need fuel if you're going to survive what I have planned for you today.”
Before I could whine, he was moving me—effortlessly lifting my limp form and arranging me so I was sitting up against the headboard, surrounded by pillows.
"There's my pretty girl," he praised, green eyes drinking me in as he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. "Still with me?"
I nodded, blinking slowly as I took in his stunning bedroom bathed in the soft glow of morning light.
“Food should be here soon," Adrian said, sitting on the edge of the bed. His fingers moved to the ribbon at my throat, gently untying it.
"Let me check you over first."
His touch was feather-light as he examined my neck, tilting my head this way and that. "Good.” Satisfaction was evident in his voice. "No marks where there shouldn't be."
He leaned in, nuzzling beneath my ear like an affectionate puppy, his stubble scraping against my skin.
"You're perfect," he whispered, "So fucking perfect it hurts to look at you.”
I reached up, fingers tangling in his brown waves. "You're not so bad yourself, psycho."
He laughed against my skin, pressing open-mouthed kisses down my neck to my collarbone. "There she is. I was worried I'd fucked the words right out of you."
"Almost," I admitted, heat rising to my cheeks as I grinned. "But it takes more than that to break me."
The doorbell sounded, and Adrian reluctantly pulled away. "Food's here. Don't move."
He stood, gloriously naked and completely proud, as he strode across the room. The tattoos covering his body created a living tapestry that shifted with each movement of his powerful muscles.
When he pulled on low-hanging sweatpants, I actually whimpered at the loss of the view .
He returned minutes later with several bags of food, the rich aroma of herbs and spices making my stomach rumble. I hadn't realized how hungry I was until that moment.
“A feast, as usual,” he announced, climbing back onto the bed. "Though I'm thinking I should have ordered more.”
“No way,” I squeaked, looking between the massive takeout bags.
Adrian's smile was indulgent as he began unpacking containers. “There can never be more than you deserve, angel.”
Instead of handing me a plate, he settled beside me on the bed, opening a container of steaming breakfast.
He held it to my lips. "Open.”
The intimacy of being fed by him, both of us mostly naked, in his bed, after what we’d shared the day before, felt so romantic.
He alternated between feeding me and himself, his free hand constantly in motion, tracing my collarbone, brushing my hair back from my face, skimming down my arm.
It was as if he couldn't stop touching me, as if he needed the constant reassurance that I was real and present.
As we ate, Adrian talked about plans for later, his voice a soothing rumble that washed over me.
"First," he said, offering me another bite, "we're going shopping. Anything you want: Clothes, jewelry, art supplies. That card has no limit, angel. I meant what I said about replacing everything."
“Are you sure? I mean?—”
He silenced me with a gentle finger against my lips. “It’s not about need. It’s about want."
His hand drifted lower, fingers ghosting over the curve of my breast. "About what makes me happy. And spoiling you makes me very, very happy."
His touch, though sensual, held no demand, just appreciation, a tactile reminder of his admiration for my body. I leaned into it, craving the connection.
"Then," he continued, his fingers trailing down to trace idle patterns on my stomach, “you’ll meet my family. Connor and Sierra, Jax and Estelle. They're dying to meet you properly."
He grinned that boyish expression that somehow made him look younger despite his intimidating size and the tattoos covering nearly every inch of his visible skin.
"Fair warning, they'll have questions. Lots of them."
"About what?" I asked, accepting another bite of food.
"About how I managed to convince the prettiest girl in the world to put up with me.”
His hand settled possessively on my thigh, thumb stroking small circles against my skin. "About whether you've seen my knife collection yet. About whether I've been behaving myself."
He chuckled, the sound warm and genuine. "Spoiler alert: I haven't."
I smiled. “What are they like?”
I knew a bit from when I initially researched Adrian online—I’d come across Jax and Connor in many of his photos, same with the girls.
"They'll love you," he said with absolute certainty. "Sierra's sweet, bookish, always has Connor looming over her like a bear. She has a cat named Toffee that I'm absolutely obsessed with, in case that wasn't clear from my many social media posts featuring said cat."
This drew a laugh from me. I'd seen those posts—Adrian, massive and tattooed, cradling a fluffy beige cat with an expression of pure adoration… along with some stranger ones, like the cat in the cockpit of an airplane.
"And Estelle is kind and brilliant. She runs an academy and adopted her nephew when his dad proved to be the worst human on the planet. Jax worships the ground she walks on. You'll get along great."
He set aside the empty containers, pulling me against his chest as he leaned back against the headboard. His hands continued their gentle exploration of my body .
"They're family," he said softly, his lips brushing the top of my head. "The only one I've got. And now, they're yours too."
The simple declaration made my heart swell.
I turned my head to look up at him, finding his green eyes watching me with an expression that made my breath hitch. Intense, possessive, but also achingly vulnerable.
"I'd like that," I whispered.
His smile was bright, transforming his dangerous features into something softer.
He leaned down, capturing my lips in a kiss that was surprisingly gentle given the hunger and flames I'd witnessed yesterday.
I couldn’t stop smiling as we staggered back through Adrian’s mansion, me balancing a single, modest shopping bag, and him lugging enough loot to make Beverly Hills blush.
It had been a blur of hours in the most exclusive boutiques, every clerk scurrying and simpering as Adrian’s black card cut through their inventory like a guillotine through silk.
We'd spent the entire day at the most exclusive boutiques, Adrian's black card making every sales associate practically bow at our feet.
Honestly, the day hadn’t even started before it turned unforgettable.
In what might have been the worst disguise in history, hot pink hat, designer shades, Adrian had rolled up in a neon green Lamborghini.
As we walked past the velvet ropes and shiny marble, I caught the whirl of whispers. Girls huddled at coffee bars, their eyes wide, their giggles barely muffled.
The phrases circled around me like butterflies and piranhas both:
“That’s Adrian the Catalyst—look at his arms!”
“Omg, is that his girlfriend? ”
“Do you think she knows he’s… you know… insane?”
“She’s got a literal psychopath as her boyfriend. Lucky.”
The truth flickered in all their eyes, and I glowed with it. My relationship was anything but boring.
Adrian grinned when I pointed it out, flashing that wolfish smile that said he’d heard every word and palmed my curves.
“They’re just jealous you’ve got a psycho who’d light the whole city on fire if you asked.”
I swatted his chest. “And you wore that hideous hat for my benefit?”
“Keeping you incognito, angel.” He tugged me close, sunglasses halfway down his nose, his energy feral. “The car’s for me. The hat was for you.”
He’d been impossible all day. If I so much as looked at a handbag for more than two seconds, he’d have it behind the counter before I could even protest, with a smirk and a casual, “You wandered. That’s punishment.”
If I drifted from his orbit, he’d anchor me with a hand tangled in my hair or around my throat, gentle but unmistakably “Adrian.”
“Ready to see what damage we did?” I teased as we finally made it back to his kitchen, eyeing the Everest of shopping bags.
He hoisted me up onto the island—like I weighed nothing, as always—and leaned in with that predatory smile.
“Show me. And don’t give me that guilty look. This is just Round One.”
Unpacking felt like a fever dream. There were sundresses in every shade, sweaters softer than silk, shoes hand-stitched by artisans, floral dresses like they’d been made for me and me alone.
I touched a cashmere skirt, nearly shivering at the price tag.
“This is way too much,” I groaned, but my fingers didn’t stop caressing the expensive softness.
“I’m the definition of too much, angel.” Adrian surveyed me like a predator guarding his kill, green eyes burning. “What’s mine gets the best. Every time. ”
“You even let me get the stuffed elephant and turtle,” I taunted, holding them up in the air.
He just shrugged. “They’re adorable. The best things are the ones you want for no reason at all.”
I caught a glimpse of a certain bag holding delicate white lace, whisper-thin silk, and soft cotton lingerie that looked more angelic than seductive.
Just touching them made my cheeks burn.
“Those are my favorites.”
I stuck my tongue out. “You would say that.”
He just grinned, crazy and humorous all at once, and my heart raced at the memory of him selecting them, large tattooed hands looking obscene against the innocent white fabrics.
The jewelry box at the bottom stopped me cold, though.
He’d insisted, wanting to replace everything . I opened the velvet box, blinking at the delicate white gold tri-chain bracelet, three strands woven together with light-catching links.
“This is so…” Unnecessary. Over the top. Gorgeous.
He pressed against my back, fastening it around my wrist, his lips brushing my ear.
“Now you’ve got something better than he ever gave you. Something permanent. Something beautiful. Like you.”
I looked at the bracelet, feeling like I’d slipped on armor, or a collar, or both.
“Thank you,” I managed. My voice was soft, but I meant every syllable.
He smirked, soft for just a second. “Anything for my angel.”
I flicked a glance at my phone—yikes, I had to film something before meeting his family. “I should do a haul video, or my followers will think you’ve murdered me.”
That got a genuine laugh. “Here, in my lair? Do it. Start some rumors. Let them see you somewhere new, somewhere that’s not temporary.”
That confidence sent a thrill straight through my bones. He said not temporary like it was a done deal, and the scariest part? I wanted it to be.
I set up my phone on his desk, positioning it to capture the dining table covered in my new purchases, with Adrian's home visible in the background.
The exposed brick walls, enormous windows, and his eclectic taste in art would definitely raise eyebrows among my followers.
“Hey, flowers!” I chirped, channeling influencer Isla, all bright-eyed and buttery sweet. “I know I’ve been off the grid this week, but I had the most insane day—so, here’s my haul!”
As I held up each piece, soft sundresses, the opulent bracelet, I couldn’t help but trace what had changed.
Every new piece was a direct replacement for something Noah had ever given me, except this time, it was perfect, handpicked, decadent, and me.
Adrian had gone out of his way to erase every trace of the past and write his name across my future.
The difference was impossible to miss on camera, and though I didn’t say it, I was sure my followers would notice.
Out of frame, Adrian lounged, eyes dark and humorous, occasionally smirking when I mentioned something he’d chosen with that big, tattooed hand.
He radiated so much energy, I half expected comments to ask, “Who set off a nuclear reactor behind your camera?”
I finished, signed off, and found him still watching me with that unblinking intensity.
“What?” I asked, suddenly bashful, smoothing my hair.
"You're different when you film," he observed, rising from the chair with fluid grace. "Like you put on a mask. Brighter, more polished."
I bit my lip, unsure if that was a criticism. "It's part of the job."
His phone buzzed. He glanced at it and grinned, happiness immediately framing his handsome features.
“Game time, angel. Let’s get you changed into something that makes you look like chaos in a ribbon. I want to show you off and make everyone cry with jealousy.”
Nerves tingled through me. Carnival rides, my new clothes, Adrian’s brothers, their girls, and the biggest event of my summer.
Tonight, I’d put on a brand new dress, step into Adrian’s world for all of the city to see, and let him burn everything old down.