11. Eliana
Eliana
By the time we left Eleanor Ashford’s estate, the sky had turned gloomy. Dark clouds gathered in the sky, swallowing the last traces of daylight until the world outside looked strangely dim.
I watched the first drops strike the windshield. Then the rain came down all at once.
Within minutes, it became so heavy that the road ahead blurred into streaks of gray. Adrian slowed the car, his attention fixed on the windshield as the wipers struggled to keep up.
“I can barely see,” he admitted.
“We could pull over.”
“I know.”
He sounded reluctant, but a few minutes later, he turned into the parking lot of an old roadside motel. The building looked like it had survived several decades without anyone bothering to renovate it. A flickering neon sign buzzed above the office, and rainwater rushed along the cracked pavement.
I laughed softly. “You mean a horror story where a billionaire’s car drives through a storm and ends up at a motel that looks creepy?”
“Exactly that.”
We stepped inside, where the tiny lobby smelled faintly of old carpet and rain. After checking in, we took a room, hoping the storm would pass in a few hours before we had to get back on the road.
But for some reason, I didn't want to leave. There were no reporters waiting outside. No bodyguards hovering nearby. No meetings, cameras, or people expecting us to play a convincing couple.
There was only a small motel room, the sound of rain against the window, and the two of us.
It felt strangely peaceful.
We ordered takeout from the only restaurant still delivering through the storm and spent nearly fifteen minutes arguing over what movie to watch before finally choosing a terrible old romantic comedy neither of us had heard of.
Halfway through, the electricity flickered. I looked toward the ceiling, pulling the blanket we were sharing closer.
Adrian glanced at me. “If the lights go out, I’m blaming you.”
“Why me?”
“You have terrible luck.”
“You kidnapped me from a wedding, made my peaceful life news headlines and brought me to a haunted-looking motel in the middle of a storm. I think your decision-making deserves some examination. My luck has started going south due to your acquaintance, Mr. Billionaire!”
He laughed, and I couldn't help smiling at the sound. The softness in his laughter made me want to hear it again. Later, when I realized I had stolen most of the blanket, Adrian stared at me in disbelief.
“You took the entire thing.”
“I’m cold.”
“You have approximately eighty percent of the blanket.”
“You’re exaggerating.”
“I run several billion-dollar companies. I know how to calculate percentages.”
I pulled the blanket closer. “And yet you still haven't figured out how to win an argument with me.”
He shook his head, laughing quietly. It was strange how easy it felt. I had spent so long believing that happiness had to be earned through something extraordinary. A successful career. A perfect relationship. A life that looked impressive from the outside.
Yet sitting beside Adrian in that shabby motel room, sharing terrible food and laughing over a ridiculous movie, I found myself thinking that perhaps happiness could be much smaller.
Perhaps it could sound like someone's quiet laughter in the middle of a storm. Or feel like the comfort of having someone beside you when the whole world seems far away.
Eventually, the movie ended. Neither of us bothered to choose another. The rain continued against the window, steady and gentle now.
I looked at Adrian. Without the usual teasing smile, he seemed different. More vulnerable somehow.
“What are you most afraid of?” I asked.
He didn't answer immediately. His gaze remained on the rain-streaked window for a long moment before he finally looked at me.
“Losing something I could never replace.”
There was something in his voice that made the words feel heavier than they should have. I studied his face, searching for the joke that usually followed whenever our conversations became too serious.
There wasn't one.
For the first time, I wanted to reach whatever part of him he kept hidden from me. I wanted him to tell me what he carried so quietly, and maybe, somehow, let me carry some of it with him. The more time I spent this close to Adrian, the more I understood how beautiful a person he was.
Whatever had hurt him this deeply, he didn't deserve to carry it alone.
Before I realized what was happening, a tear slipped down my left cheek.
Adrian noticed immediately.
His entire expression changed. “Eliana?” His voice softened with concern. “Are you all right?”
I quickly wiped my cheek and gave him a small, embarrassed smile.
“I'm sorry. I don't know.” I let out a quiet breath, looking down at my hands. “I just... I don't know why seeing the pain in your eyes made mine water.”
He said nothing.
Neither did I.
For a moment, the rain was the only sound between us. And somehow, in that little motel room, with the whole world temporarily shut outside, I felt closer to him than I had ever expected to feel to anyone.
Adrian glanced toward the glass where the rain pounded hard. “Do you want to drench in the rain?”
I turned toward him, wondering if he was joking. He couldn't possibly be serious. I had a spare change of clothes in my bag, but that didn't make the idea any less childish.
Yet he was already standing.
He held out his hand. “Come on.”
I looked at his hand for a moment. Then I stopped thinking about whether it was sensible. Smiling, I placed my hand in his.
We walked toward the motel entrance and stopped beneath the awning. Beyond its narrow shelter, the rain fell in silver curtains, washing over the empty highway. Headlights occasionally appeared through the downpour before disappearing into the distance, leaving the road quiet again.
I stood beside him, watching the storm.
Adrian didn't say anything.
Neither did I.
Then his fingers closed around mine, and before I could understand what he was doing, he pulled me gently into the rain.
Cold water struck my face.
I gasped, then laughed.
My hair became soaked within seconds, water running down my cheeks and neck. Adrian's shirt clung to him as he laughed beside me, and for once, neither of us cared how ridiculous we looked.
I reached for his hand again.
He caught it.
We moved through the rain without speaking, our footsteps splashing through shallow puddles as though we had forgotten there was a world waiting beyond the motel.
Eventually, Adrian stopped.
He released my hand and lifted his face toward the sky.
His arms slowly spread open.
His eyes closed.
Rain streamed through his dark hair and over his face. He stood there completely still, breathing deeply, as though he had been waiting years for the sky to give him permission to feel something.
I watched him. There was a strange beauty in seeing him like that. No expensive suit. No guarded smile. No cameras. No carefully chosen words.
Just Adrian beneath the rain.
He lowered his arms and opened his eyes. When he looked at me, his smile was soft enough to make my chest ache. “Thank you,” he said.
I swallowed. “For what?”
“For coming into my life.”
The words caught me off guard. He stepped closer, rain dripping from his lashes.
“I don't think you know what you've done to me,” he continued quietly. “For so long, I convinced myself I knew how to live with the things I couldn't change. I knew exactly what each day was supposed to look like.”
“Then somehow, you found your way to me.” A faint, almost disbelieving smile touched his lips. “And suddenly, all those years of telling myself I was fine, don't seem to mean much anymore.”
My eyes burned. “Do I make your life difficult?”
“You do.”
I laughed softly through the ache in my throat.
“But I wouldn't change it,” he said.
For a moment, neither of us moved. Then he reached for my hand. His thumb brushed slowly across my knuckles. “Thank you for being here.”
I squeezed his hand, unable to say another word. The rain continued falling around us, but somehow the world felt quiet.
We eventually hurried back toward the motel, laughing as we slipped through the emergency exit. We stood inside the narrow hallway, dripping water onto the floor, trying to catch our breath.
Then the laughter faded. I looked at him. He looked at me. And suddenly, I couldn't hide behind another joke.
“Adrian…”
His expression changed.
“I don't know when it happened,” I whispered. “Somewhere along the way, pretending to be your girlfriend stopped feeling like pretending.”
He remained silent. My heart pounded. “I know this was supposed to be an arrangement. Something temporary. Something we could walk away from when the headlines disappeared.” I looked down at my hands. “But I can't keep telling myself that's all this is.”
My voice became smaller. “Maybe you don't feel the same way.” I swallowed, embarrassed by how vulnerable I suddenly felt.
I gave a nervous little laugh, but it disappeared quickly. “But that's okay. I just… I can't lie to myself anymore.”
I looked up at him.
I'm in love with Adrian Ashford.
The words frightened me even inside my own head. Before I could say anything else, Adrian stepped closer. His hands gently cupped my face.
“Your presence in my life has become necessary as breathing, Eliana.”
My breath caught.
He continued, “I don't know what you've done to me.”
I searched his face, barely believing what I was hearing.
He leaned down. His lips met mine.
The kiss was gentle at first, heavenly, as though he was giving me time to understand that this was real. Then my hands found his shoulders, pulling him closer.
The kiss deepened, carrying every feeling we had been too afraid to name.
There was no audience, no performance, no reason to pretend anymore.
Only the warmth of his hands against my face and the quiet certainty that whatever had begun as an arrangement had become something neither of us could walk away from.
I pushed my soaked hair away from my face as Adrian looked at me, his breathing still uneven from laughing.