3. Adrian #2
He seemed to be dressed for a morning run, looking effortlessly striking in black sunglasses, a tight white full-sleeve T-shirt, and black trousers.
The tee stretched across his broad shoulders and hugged his chest and arms, making it annoyingly obvious that there was a lot more muscle underneath it than his clothes had suggested the night before.
His black trousers sat teasingly low on his hips.
I could make out the hard lines of his abdomen, even through the fabric.
I suddenly remembered what I must be looking like. My hair probably resembled a bird's nest, and I was standing there in my old pajamas with absolutely no dignity left to defend.
Adrian pushed his sunglasses slightly down his nose, revealing those dark blue eyes. They settled on me with a playful glint, while a small smile appeared on his lips.
"Hi, Miss Author! So… I was out for a run," he chuckled. "Thought I'd stop by and return something."
Then I noticed what he was holding.
My mother's pendant.
"You left this in my car," he said, extending his hand.
I stared at the silver pendant before taking it from him. My fingers closed around it almost immediately. "Th-Thank you. I thought I lost it."
His gaze lingered on me for a moment. "You seemed rather attached to it."
"I am. It's uh… very important to me."
Before either of us could say anything else, Rebecca appeared behind me.
"Oh." Her voice carried far too much delight.
I closed my eyes briefly. "Rebecca, don't."
She ignored me completely and smiled at Adrian. "You're perfect."
He raised an eyebrow.
"For her book," Rebecca clarified. "She's writing a romance about billionaires, and you've just handed her firsthand research. I'm Rebecca Collins by the way. Eliana's favorite editor."
"Rebecca." I said her name, mixed with a warning.
"What?" She looked genuinely innocent. "I'm helping."
Adrian looked back at me, amusement slowly appearing in his eyes. "A billionaire romance?"
"She means nothing by it," I said quickly.
"I think that's quite interesting."
That made me look at him. There was something thoughtful in his expression now, as though the idea had genuinely caught his interest.
Rebecca noticed it too. "See? I knew this was meant to happen. You two are fated to be together."
I groaned as Rebecca picked up her bag and headed toward the door.
“Well, I’ll leave you two alone to discuss your research and explore,” she said, glancing between us with a mischievous smile.
She paused at the doorway and winked. “Try not to make too much progress without me.”
“Rebecca!” I called after her. She laughed and slipped out before I could say anything else.
I turned back toward Adrian. "I'm sorry. Rebecca can be too much sometimes.”
He smiled, quietly. "I like her. She's fun."
His gaze dropped briefly to the pendant now resting against my collarbone before returning to my face. "So coffee tomorrow evening?"
I thought I misheard. "What?"
"Aren't you gonna show me your gratitude? I brought back your lost pendant after all.”
I looked at him skeptically. "Wow! You already planned this through, didn't you?"
"Maybe."
His calm confidence made me stare at him for another second before I sighed. "Fine. Tomorrow evening. At seven?"
"Seven."
His smile deepened slightly. "I'll see you then, Eliana."
He turned and walked away before I could think of anything else to say. Or even ask him about what he planned to clear the misunderstanding about us. I closed the door and leaned against it for a moment.
This man was going to be trouble. I could already tell.
* * *
I had to go for my part-time shift at school later that day. By lunchtime, I doubted there was a single student or teacher at school who hadn't seen or asked me about the photographs with Adrian.
"Miss Hart, are you really dating Adrian Ashford?"
I closed the book in my hands and looked at my class. "No."
"Then why were you in his car?"
"Because I got into the wrong SUV."
A boy near the back raised his hand. "How do you accidentally get into a billionaire's car?"
"Apparently, I'm talented."
The class burst into laughter.
By the time school ended, I was exhausted enough to consider changing my name and moving to another country.
Ethan was waiting outside the gates. He leaned against his car with a grin seeing me approach. "So, Miss celeb! How does it feel to become famous overnight?"
I groaned. "Oh so you saw the news too! Please don't start."
"I haven't even started."
"That's exactly what worries me."
He opened the passenger door for me. "Get in. I'm taking you to dinner."
"Where?" I asked getting in.
"Anywhere you want."
I didn't hesitate. "Spicy ramen."
His expression immediately fell. "You know I can't handle spicy food."
"I know."
"And you're still choosing ramen?"
I smiled sweetly. "Yes. This is your punishment for making fun of my situation."
He sighed as he got behind the wheel. "Well, fine. How can I ever say no to you?"
"That's why you're my favorite." I grinned, buckling up my seatbelt.
"You mean your one and only best friend. Now, come on! I need details."
Dinner passed easily, filled with arguments over spice levels, Ethan's exaggerated suffering, and enough laughter to make me forget about the strange day I'd had. It wasn't until we were halfway through our meal that Ethan leaned forward and gave me a suspicious look.
"So. Tell me about him."
My chopsticks paused. "Who?"
He stared at me. "Who else? The billionaire."
I lowered my gaze to my ramen, suddenly more interested in the noodles than his expression.
“I don’t know much about him.” I hesitated, then smiled despite myself. “I think his eyes hold a lot of secrets. There’s something about him that makes me want to know more.”
Ethan's eyebrows shot up. "That's the first positive thing you've said about a man in months."
"Don't make it dramatic. When the time is right, I'll tell you everything."
He studied me for a moment before leaning back. "Fine. I'll wait."
That night, curiosity got the better of me. I sat on my bed with my laptop open and typed Adrian Ashford’s name into the search bar.
The results appeared instantly.
Business magazines. Interviews. Photographs. His paintings. Headlines about his company, his wealth, his family, and his reputation as America's most elusive billionaire bachelor.
Then I found the older articles.
The ones that mentioned a woman named Ana.
I stared at one photograph of him from seven years ago. It was during the time they were dating. Adrian was smiling, but it wasn't the polished smile I'd seen on magazine covers. It was softer. Younger. Almost unguarded.
Then I found the articles about her death.
I closed the laptop.
For some reason, the sadness I'd glimpsed beneath his charm suddenly made more sense.
My heart felt strangely restless.
What was he planning to say to me tomorrow evening?
* * *
The following evening, Adrian was already waiting at the café, seated at a secluded corner table away from the other customers. He pulled his black face mask down when he saw me enter.
As I approached, he pulled out the chair for me. “You’re early,” he said.
I tilted my head slightly looking at the clock on the wall. "So are you."
"I've been accused of being impatient." He smiled and sat across from me.
The café was quieter than I'd expected, filled with the soft clink of porcelain and low conversations. Outside, Richmond moved through the evening beneath streetlights and passing headlights.
Adrian studied the menu. "You look nervous."
"I'm not." I shook my head.
"You've been holding the menu upside down."
I looked down. It was apparently upside down. He laughed softly.
“I was distracted,” I admitted, feeling heat creep into my cheeks.
"Because of me?"
"No, by the possibility of embarrassing myself."
A quiet laugh escaped him. "You've already done that in the past."
"When?" I raised a brow.
"When you order that grass-flavored ice cream."
"You dare insult matcha again?"
He placed a hand over his chest and said with a serious face, "I apologize to the grass."
I laughed loudly for the first time in a while. He definitely knew how to be hilarious. The conversation continued easily with him. He asked about my writing, but unlike most people, he didn't immediately ask whether I'd sold millions of copies. He wanted to know why I wrote.
"Because people are complicated," I told him. "I like trying to understand why they love the way they do."
His smile faded slightly. "Are you good at reading people?"
"Most of the time..." I smiled, stirring my coffee.
"Then what about me? Have you figured me out?"
"Not yet."
"Good."
I frowned. "Why good?"
"Because the moment you think you understand someone, they usually find a way to prove you wrong."
There was a strange tone in his voice that made me look at him more carefully. But his smile returned before I could inquire what he meant.
"And you?" I asked. "Why did you choose painting to express yourself?"
"I wouldn't know where to begin," he said absent-mindedly.
"I've seen your paintings. You're very good."
His eyes narrowed slightly with amusement. "How? Have you been stalking me?"
"Rebecca would call it research. Besides, you're trending on Google."
"I see." He smirked, leaning back, watching me. "You ask a lot of questions. That's dangerous."
"Why?" I asked.
"Because eventually, you start asking questions people don't want answered."
Our eyes met. For a second, neither of us looked away. Then he smiled again, as though nothing had happened.
The evening continued, but I kept wondering about that moment. There was something about Adrian Ashford that never stayed in one place. He could be laughing one second and looking at you like he'd remembered a funeral the next.
Eventually, he placed his coffee down and looked directly at me.
"So, I was wondering if you'd want to be my girlfriend."
The coffee almost burnt my tongue as I gasped in disbelief.
"Wait! What?"