2. Eliana
Eliana
I was half-blinded by the camera flashes. Before panic could fully settle in, the sea of cameras outside suddenly swarmed before me. Reporters stumbled backward, photographers raised their lenses, and the driver’s door swung open.
A man slid into the seat beside me.
The door slammed shut.
The engine roared.
Without a second's hesitation, he threw the SUV into drive and accelerated hard enough that the crowd blurred into a wall of flashing lights disappearing behind us.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke. Beyond the windshield, Richmond’s evening streets slipped quietly past, a stark contrast to the chaos we’d just left behind. The silence felt almost louder than the shouting had. Then he glanced at me, and slowly, I turned toward him.
His eyes caught mine for only a heartbeat, but it was enough to steal every prepared inquiry I'd rehearsed during those frantic few seconds.
They were an intense shade of dark blue, the kind of color that reminded me of the ocean just before a storm, beautiful enough to make you forget you should probably be running the other way.
The corner of his mouth lifted.
"Since the entire world already thinks you're mine," he murmured, "we should probably learn each other's names."
I blinked, then gaped at him.
What was this crazy guy talking about?
I slowly opened my mouth. “I feel like introductions should’ve happened before the kidnapping.”
"I prefer calling it an evacuation," he said with a smug face.
"That's a generous interpretation."
"Sorry, it sounded better in my head. By the way, I'm Adrian. Adrian Ashford." He extended one hand briefly before returning it to the steering wheel.
There it was. The name every reporter had been screaming.
Adrian Ashford. Wait a second…
I looked at his face again, really looked at him this time. The sharp jaw. The familiar eyes. That face I’d seen plastered across magazine covers and news articles more times than I could count.
Oh my God. Isn’t he the country’s most photographed billionaire bachelor? I should’ve recognized him immediately if my half-asleep brain cells had bothered to process that information faster.
His gaze turned toward me again. “Eliana.”
He repeated my name as though testing how it sounded on his lips.
“It doesn’t really suit you,” he said proudly, as his lips curved into a playful smirk.
“Excuse me?” I stared at him in shock, unsure how to respond to that.
“Just kidding,” he snickered.
This man was enjoying this way too much.
My brain, unfortunately, had chosen that exact moment to grasp reality.
"Oh my God." I covered my face. "Oh no."
"What happened?"
"I got into the wrong car, didn't I?"
He chuckled. "Glad you finally noticed."
I groaned. "My cousin's wedding. This was supposed to be the bridesmaids' SUV. I thought?—"
"You thought this was yours."
"Yes."
"And then you fell asleep."
"Apparently."
"I have to admit," he said thoughtfully, "it's the most original way anyone's ever broken into my vehicle."
"I'm really sorry. But I didn't break in. I entered accidentally while exhausted."
"Fair defense."
I pointed at him. "Don't make this funny."
"I'm trying very hard."
I let out another hopeless sigh and looked out the window. Outside, Richmond drifted past in ribbons of gold beneath streetlights beginning to wake with the evening. People blissfully unaware that I'd accidentally become tomorrow's entertainment headline.
“This is a disaster. They’re going to think we’re dating,” I muttered, sinking lower into my seat.
“They already do,” he replied calmly.
I groaned. “My aunt is going to have a heart attack.”
“We should send flowers,” he suggested, his mouth twitching with amusement.
I turned toward him, narrowing my eyes. “Excuse me, do you joke when you’re stressed?”
"I joke when other people are stressed."
"That's somehow worse."
"I've been told."
My goodness…
Despite myself, I ended up smiling.
He noticed. "There it is."
"What?"
"You stopped looking like you're about to call your lawyer."
"I don't have a lawyer."
"Good. They're expensive."
Silence settled between us again. He drummed his fingers lightly against the steering wheel before making an unexpected turn.
"Where are we going?" I asked.
"Ice cream."
I stared at him. "I don't think this is an ice-cream situation."
"I disagree."
I blinked. "...What?"
“I’m sure your pulse is trying to win a marathon right now. In situations like this, only ice cream can cool your brain.”
I was too stunned to come up with a comeback.
I’d just been photographed in a billionaire’s SUV and accidentally became the internet’s newest billionaire girlfriend. And now, apparently, my fake billionaire boyfriend was taking me out for ice cream.
Could my day possibly get any more ridiculous?
I must have looked as overwhelmed as I felt because Adrian glanced at me, his expression softening for barely a second.
“Don’t worry. My treat,” he said. “Think of it as compensation for putting your face on tomorrow’s headlines.”
I gaped at him. Was this supposed to make me feel better?
When I looked at the smug smile spreading across his face, I realized he wasn’t even trying to hide how much he was enjoying this.
This man is unbelievable.
I folded my arms and looked out the window before he could notice the heat rising in my face. Unfortunately, that lasted approximately three seconds before I looked back at him again. He was watching the road, one hand resting loosely on the steering wheel.
Dark hair.
Sharp cheekbones.
A clean white shirt with black coat.
A tiny mole rested just beneath the right side of his lower lip, a delicate little flaw on an unfairly composed face.
There was something almost unfair about how effortlessly put together he looked after escaping a paparazzi ambush.
"You've been staring for a while. Like whatchu see?" His smirk deepened.
I nearly choked. "I wasn’t. I—I was just observing."
He laughed quietly. I looked away muttering under my breath.
Smug face…
A few minutes later, he pulled beside an old-fashioned ice-cream truck parked near a riverside overlook along the James River. The water had turned into a ribbon of dark glass, catching scattered reflections from bridge lights and glowing windows across the water.
The truck's colorful bulbs blinked against the deepening blue of the evening, making the little stand look oddly cozy.
Adrian climbed out first. By the time I reached for the door handle, he'd already opened it for me.
"You don't have to do that." I felt a bit embarrassed. But he said nothing… only smiled softly.
The evening breeze slipped across the river, cooler now that the sun had disappeared behind the skyline. I rubbed my arms. It felt a bit chilly.
He seemed to notice. Without saying a word, he shrugged off his black coat and held it out to me.
"You'll freeze."
"It's not needed. I'll survive."
"I don't doubt that. But I'd rather you not have to prove it."
For some reason, refusing felt more awkward than accepting. "Thank you."
"It looks better on you."
I rolled my eyes. "Do you often flirt with strangers?"
"Why is it working?"
“Huh… You wish!”
He smiled and I playfully glared as we walked toward the truck. The elderly vendor leaned out the window with a grin. "What'll it be?"
Adrian turned to me. "Your choice."
I barely hesitated. "Matcha."
He stared. "Matcha?"
I nodded. "Why? What's wrong?"
He looked genuinely concerned. "So you're choosing the grass flavor with a master's degree."
"What? Grass flavor with a master's degree?"
“Don’t you know?” he asked, completely serious. “Grass went to university. Graduated with a master’s degree and became matcha.”
I stared at him for a moment. “What are you, five years old? I can’t believe you just made that up to ridicule my favorite ice cream flavor.”
He didn't say much, only nodded solemnly like some kind of philosopher. “You sure you don't want to hop over to the chocolate side?”
“I’m keeping my matcha.”
“Then I guess I have no choice but to respect your terrible decision.”
The vendor laughed as he scooped the ice cream. “Young man,” he said, “matcha’s popular.”
Adrian accepted the cones, handing mine to me before taking his own. “So are bad ideas.”
I gave him a look. “You’re such a menace.”
His eyes widened slightly before he covered it with a quiet chuckle.
“What?” I asked.
His gaze lingered on the river for a moment before returning to me. “Nothing.” His voice softened. “You just reminded me of someone.”
I froze. Did I cross the line? Was I too rude?
For a second, the evening blurred strangely around the edges.
I felt a sharp ache behind my temple. It was that headache again, the same strange one that arrived without explanation and disappeared before I could make sense of it.
I rubbed the pendant resting against my collarbone without thinking.
Fortunately, the pain passed as quickly as it had come.
Adrian had already rolled his sleeves a little higher before accepting the change from the vendor.
That's when I noticed the ink. Black script curved along the inside of his forearm, disappearing beneath the cuff of his white shirt.
It wasn't a name. It wasn't a date. It seemed like poetry.
Only a few words were visible before the fabric hid the rest.
But we loved with...
Something about the verse tugged at me with unsettling familiarity.
I'd read those words before.
Very recently. But where?
Adrian’s voice brought me back from my train of thought. "Do you want to take a walk?"
I looked at the path stretching along the James River. The evening had settled properly now, and the water looked almost black beneath the scattered lights along the bank. The trees were beginning to fill with tiny new leaves, their branches moving gently in the March breeze.
Somewhere nearby, music drifted from a riverside restaurant, mixing with the sound of passing cars and the occasional laughter of people enjoying the cool night.
It was surprisingly peaceful.
He continued, "Unless you'd rather sit in the car and panic."
"Come on! I wasn't really panicking."