7. Adrian
Adrian
"Adrian, this is going to cost us a lot. Marcus Whitmore is a big investor in Ashford Holdings. Our current project in Virginia is backed by him too," Aron said, rubbing his temple.
He had been stressed ever since I put Whitmore on the floor at the charity gala. The Ashcrofts and Ashfords were working together on a major hotel development in Virginia, and Aron had been personally overseeing most of it. Now one punch had given him another problem to add to his list.
The media had swallowed the scene whole, turning it into headlines and speculation. Some were already claiming Whitmore might pull his investment from the project. That would mean a loss of millions.
I didn't give a damn.
"He should be grateful I didn't break his jaw," I muttered, leaning back in my chair. "I actually held back because we were in public. Otherwise..." I let the sentence die, scoffing as I looked away.
Just remembering his hand on Eliana made something under my skin tighten.
If I'd been somewhere without cameras, without guests, without consequences, I might have taken my time with every one of his fingers.
But Whitmore wasn't some stranger with money to lose. His family had influence, old money, and enough connections to turn one night into a problem that could follow Eliana long after the headlines disappeared.
I wasn't going to let that happen.
Aron shook his head and drummed his fingers against my desk. He studied my face for a moment, probably trying to determine whether I was capable of listening to reason.
"No, no, Adrian. Come on." He leaned forward, his voice lowering.
"We don't need you getting dragged into legal trouble with the Whitmores.
Leave the man alone. Whatever happened, I'll handle it.
I'll speak to them, offer compensation if necessary, and do whatever I can to keep the project moving. You just stay out of it."
I stared at him for a long moment.
He was right.
I should stay out of it.
Otherwise, by the time I was finished with Marcus Whitmore, his family might have trouble recognizing him.
I rose from my chair and walked toward the glass wall overlooking Richmond. May had painted the city in late spring. Trees lined the streets below, their new leaves bright beneath the afternoon light, while people moved between buildings busy as usual.
The sky was clear. The weather was warm. Everything looked annoyingly alive. My thoughts returned to the woman who had been occupying far too much of my mind lately.
Eliana.
I wondered what she was doing. Probably sitting somewhere with her laptop open, lost inside that billionaire romance she was writing. The thought pulled an unwilling smile from me.
Aron cleared his throat. I ignored him and reached for the whiskey glass waiting on the trolley beside my desk.
"Adrian."
I took a drink. He cleared his throat again.
This time, I glanced over my shoulder. "What?"
"I said I'm handling Whitmore."
"I heard you."
I set the glass down and looked at him. "I won't touch Marcus Whitmore again. But if he ever does what he did yesterday, I'll destroy him. You can deliver my sweet little message for him."
Aron sighed, apparently accepting that this was the closest thing to a promise he was going to get.
"All right. All right. I'll handle it. You let me handle it."
He left soon after.
The office fell quiet.
I stared at the whiskey in my glass.
I'd been drinking too much again lately. Perhaps it was the stress. Perhaps it was easier to dull certain thoughts than to keep pretending everything inside me was perfectly intact.
Playing the happy man was exhausting when underneath the smile, I was still breaking apart in places no one could see.
But it was worth it.
I had come too far to stop now.
Whatever it cost me, whatever I had to sacrifice, I would see this through.
Then, maybe, I could finally have the one thing I'd been chasing for years.
Peace.
I reached for my phone.
Eliana's name wasn't in my messages yet.
My thumb hovered over the screen.
I missed her.
That was inconvenient.
I smiled faintly to myself.
Maybe I should send her a message soon.
* * *
Eliana
For the first time in months, the words came easily.
I sat at my desk with my laptop open, watching sentence after sentence appear beneath my fingers. I wasn't forcing them anymore. I wasn't staring at an empty page, waiting for inspiration to be kind enough to return.
Adrian had somehow brought it back.
Not just the billionaire hero I was supposed to be writing, but the world around him.
The quiet corners hidden behind the wealth.
The places where nobody cared about cameras or headlines.
The stories he told me when we were alone, the paintings he never showed the public, the way his smile sometimes disappeared when he thought I wasn't looking.
Somehow, I'd started writing him without meaning to.
And perhaps that was the dangerous part.
Because the more I learned about Adrian, the harder it became to separate the man from the character forming inside my pages.
He was becoming my inspiration, but lately, he was becoming something else too.
Something I wasn't ready to name.
I leaned back in my chair and stared at the words on the screen.
Maybe I was beginning to understand why people wrote love stories.
Sometimes you didn't invent the feeling.
Sometimes you simply gave it somewhere to exist.
And lately, every time I thought about Adrian, my heart seemed to have far too much to say.
Cookie fluttered from his perch and landed beside my laptop, immediately pecking at the corner of the page.
"Hey, that's my book," I told him, gently nudging him away. "You can't edit it."
He tilted his head at me, completely unimpressed.
"Stupid," he muttered.
I laughed. "You're becoming too much like Walter."
Cookie chirped as if he took that as an insult.
I reached over and rubbed the top of his head. "Don't worry. You're still my favorite."
My phone suddenly vibrated on the desk. I picked it up and saw a message from Adrian.
Adrian
Are you still awake?
A small smile tugged at my lips before I could stop it.
Cookie was watching me.
“Don’t.”
He just stared.
“Stupid.”
I sighed. “I knew you’d say that.”
Before I could think better of it, I typed out a reply and sent it.
Eliana
Yes, I'm awake. Just working. You?
His answer came almost immediately.
Adrian
Just got back home. Hectic day at work.
Then another message appeared.
And another.
Adrian started sending ridiculous GIFs, each one more dramatic than the last. One showed a man collapsing onto a desk, another showed someone staring hopelessly at a mountain of paperwork, and by the fourth one, I was laughing so hard that Cookie lifted his head from his perch and stared at me as if I'd finally lost my mind.
"Don't look at me like that," I told him, wiping the corner of my eye. "He's being ridiculous."
My phone buzzed again.
Adrian
Tomorrow. 12 p.m. sharp. Be ready. I'm taking you somewhere.
I barely finished reading before another message appeared.
Adrian
Don't ask where!
I smiled.
Eliana
I was literally about to ask.
The typing bubble appeared almost instantly.
Adrian
Patience, Miss Author. You'll know when you get there.
I shook my head before typing back.
Eliana
Okay, done. Deal! See you then.
Adrian
:)
I stared at the tiny smiley face for a moment before setting my phone down.
"I wonder where he's planning to take me."
Cookie clicked his beak.
"Don't."
He tilted his head. "Stupid."
I sighed. "Maybe I am… a little."
The next morning, Adrian arrived fifteen minutes early. I was still upstairs fixing my hair when the doorbell rang. I hurried downstairs and opened the door to find him standing there with his hands in the pockets of his coat, looking far too pleased with himself.
"You're early," I said.
"I know," he replied, glancing at his watch.
"You could have waited in the car."
"I could have."
His gaze moved past me and into the house. "May I come in?"
"Sure. I'm almost ready."
I stepped aside, and he entered.
That was when Cookie noticed him. My bird flew down from his perch and landed on the arm of the sofa, staring at Adrian with the kind of suspicion usually reserved for people who had personally offended him.
Adrian stopped.
"So you're Cookie."
Cookie tilted his head.
Adrian slowly held out one finger. "Hello."
Cookie leaned forward.
"Don't bite me."
He bit him.
Adrian immediately pulled his hand back. "Ow."
I covered my mouth, but I couldn't stop myself from laughing.
"Cookie!"
Adrian examined his finger with genuine disbelief. "Your bird has trust issues."
"He doesn't bite everyone."
"That's reassuring."
Cookie fluffed his feathers. "Stupid."
Adrian looked at me. "Did he just call me stupid?"
"I think he did."
I laughed again as I grabbed my bag from the table. "He doesn't like strangers."
"I've noticed."
When I returned, Adrian was still keeping a cautious distance from Cookie.
"Will he be okay alone?" he asked.
"Of course. He's trained. He actually likes having some alone time."
Adrian glanced at him again. "He's independent."
"Very."
"And judgmental."
"Extremely."
Despite the bite, Adrian's expression softened as he looked at Cookie.
"He's a beautiful bird."
Cookie chirped.
I smiled. "See? You've been forgiven."
"I don't think I have."
"You definitely haven't."
He laughed quietly, and for some reason, seeing him standing in my little house, being judged by my bird, made the whole situation feel strangely normal.
Until we left.
The drive took us farther outside Richmond than I expected. The city slowly disappeared behind us, replaced by quieter roads, stretches of green, and the occasional farmhouse tucked between trees. Nearly an hour and a half later, I finally looked over at Adrian.
"Are you going to tell me where we're going now?"
"No."
"Adrian."
He glanced at me with amusement in his blue eyes. "You agreed not to ask."
"That was yesterday. I have a right to change my mind."
"You'll find out soon."
A few minutes later, we passed through a pair of iron gates.