3. Bella
— ? —
Bella
Three months later, I stand in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows of my office at Sterling Industries, watching the city wake up below me.
The sun is just beginning to rise, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold, and the streets are still relatively quiet.
In another hour, they’ll be clogged with traffic and pedestrians, but for now, the city belongs to the early risers and the insomniacs.
I’ve become one of the former. I arrive at the office by seven most mornings, before most of the staff, and often stay until well after dark.
It isn’t that Adrian demands such hours - he’s actually told me more than once to go home and get some rest. But I find that I prefer being here, in this sleek modern office with its glass walls and minimalist furniture, to being alone in the small apartment I rented after leaving Marcus.
Work has become my salvation. It gives me purpose, direction, a reason to get out of bed in the morning. And I’m good at it - better than I ever imagined I could be.
The past three months have been a whirlwind of learning and growth.
Adrian threw me into the deep end from day one, assigning me to analyze a potential acquisition target and present my findings to the board.
I was terrified, certain I would fail, certain I would prove that Adrian had made a mistake in hiring me.
But I didn’t fail. My analysis was thorough and insightful, my presentation polished and professional. The board approved the acquisition, and Adrian looked at me with something that might have been pride.
Since then, I’ve worked on half a dozen major projects, each one more complex than the last. I’ve learned the intricacies of corporate finance, the art of negotiation, the importance of reading between the lines in contracts and financial statements.
I’ve discovered that I have a talent for seeing patterns others miss, for identifying risks and opportunities that aren’t immediately obvious.
And I’ve discovered that I love it. Love the challenge, the intellectual stimulation, the satisfaction of solving complex problems. This is what I went to school for, what I dreamed of doing before Marcus convinced me to put my career on hold.
The door to my office opens, and I turn to see Adrian entering with two cups of coffee.
He’s already dressed for the day in a charcoal suit that probably costs more than my monthly rent, his dark hair perfectly styled, looking like he’s been awake for hours even though I know he keeps the same early schedule I do.
“I thought I’d find you here,” he says, handing me one of the cups. “You know, most people don’t come in on Saturdays.”
“Most people don’t have three months of career advancement to make up for,” I reply, accepting the coffee gratefully.
Adrian learned my order within the first week - a vanilla latte with an extra shot, no sugar.
The fact that he remembers such a small detail shouldn’t make me feel warm inside, but it does.
“You’ve more than made up for lost time,” Adrian says, moving to stand beside me at the window. “The Hartley acquisition alone would have been enough to prove your worth. Everything else has just been showing off.”
I feel a flush of pleasure at the compliment. Adrian isn’t effusive with his praise - when he says something positive, he means it.
“I had a good teacher,” I say.
“You had good instincts,” Adrian corrects. “I just gave you the opportunity to use them.”
We stand in comfortable silence for a moment, sipping our coffee and watching the city below.
This has become something of a routine over the past few months - Adrian finds me in my office early in the morning, we have coffee together, and we discuss whatever projects are currently in play.
It’s professional, collegial, and absolutely nothing like the relationship I had with Marcus.
Marcus was never interested in my work, never asked my opinion on business matters, never treated me as an intellectual equal. Adrian does all of those things as naturally as breathing.
“So,” Adrian says, setting his coffee cup on my desk. “I came here to invite you to be my date for tonight.”
I blink, startled and completely taken aback. “Your what?”
He grins. “It’s not what you think. Tonight is a major gala, and all the people in the major leagues will be there. I always take someone from work as a reward,” he glances up at me and hesitates. Adrian slides his hands into his pockets like I’ve seen him do so countless times before.
He fixes me with those stormy eyes in a way he never has before. In fact, I’ve never seen him look at anyone that way. “No one has earned it more than you have,” he says sincerely, his face for once void of any smirk.
I open my mouth and close it, suddenly feeling flustered. What is it about Adrian that always makes me feel so nervous?
“I - I mean, I guess if it is a work thing. If it’s for work-” I ramble on, stumbling over my words anxiously.
“Good!” he says kind of awkwardly and quickly. It’s like he is as uncomfortable as I am.
And I’m left wondering, what the hell just happened?
“Now, I have a new project for you.”
I turn to face him, my interest piqued. “What kind of project?”
“A takeover. Hostile, probably, given the target’s current management. It’s going to be complicated, potentially messy, and it’s going to require someone with excellent analytical skills and the ability to think strategically.”
“Sounds perfect,” I say. “Who’s the target?”
Adrian’s smile is slow and deliberate, and there’s something in his eyes that makes my pulse quicken.
“I’d prefer for it to be a surprise,” he says. “For now, just know that it’s going to be our biggest project yet. And I need you leading the analysis.”
“When do we start?”
“Monday. I’ll have all the preliminary information sent to you over the weekend.”
I nod, my mind already racing with possibilities.
A hostile takeover is serious business - it means going after a company whose leadership doesn’t want to be acquired, using every legal and financial tool at their disposal to force the sale.
It’s aggressive, potentially ruthless, and exactly the kind of challenge I crave.
“I won’t let you down,” I say.
“I know you won’t.” Adrian moves closer, and I’m suddenly very aware of how small my office is, how close we’re standing. “You never do.”
There’s something in his voice, something in the way he’s looking at me, that makes my breath catch.
This isn’t the first time I’ve felt this tension between us - it’s been building slowly over the past three months, a gradual accumulation of long looks and accidental touches and conversations that last longer than they need to.
I’ve tried to ignore it, tried to tell myself it’s just gratitude or admiration or some kind of transference from the trauma of my wedding day. But standing here now, with Adrian close enough that I can smell his cologne and see the flecks of gold in his gray-green eyes, I can’t deny it anymore.
I’m attracted to him. Deeply, undeniably attracted to him.
And based on the way he’s looking at me, the feeling is mutual.
“Adrian,” I start, not sure what I’m going to say.
But before I can finish, his phone buzzes. He pulls it out, glances at the screen, and his expression shifts into something more businesslike.
“I have a call I need to take,” he says, stepping back. “But we’ll talk more about the project on Monday, tonight might be for work, but it is supposed to be fun. Have a good day, Isabella.”
And then he’s gone, leaving me standing alone in my office, my heart racing and my mind spinning.
I spend the rest of the day trying to focus on work, but my thoughts keep drifting back to that moment with Adrian. The way he looked at me. The way my body responded to his proximity. The undeniable chemistry that’s been crackling between us.
It’s dangerous territory. Adrian is my boss, and getting involved with him would be complicated at best, disastrous at worst. But I can’t seem to make myself care about the potential complications. For the first time since my wedding day, I feel something other than anger or hurt or determination.
I feel desire.
Just as I’m about to pack up and leave for the day, I receive a box with a note attached to it. The note says: seven o’clock sharp, and there’s an address scrawled in that same horrible, familiar handwriting that I know so well.
When I open the box, there is a dazzling dress.
Something about the color looks familiar.
I hug the box closed and rush home with it.
When I pull the dress out and hold it up against my body in front of the full-length mirror in my room, I realize what it is that is so familiar about the color of it.
It matches Adrian’s strange, alien eyes.
I blush crimson and set about getting ready for the evening. For the first time since everything happened with Marcus on my big day, I actually take the time to put effort into my appearance.
That was the last time I got all dressed up, my wedding day. Or what was supposed to be.
I take hours and hours to get ready. Finally the time comes and I’m running late. I rush out the door to the car Adrian sent for me, nervously bouncing my leg on the whole ride over.
I have no idea what to expect. Am I overdressed? I don’t know but it’s too late to care about that.
When the car slides smoothly to a stop at our destination, I expect the kind, but elderly driver to open the door for me, tipping his hat like he did the first time. Only, when the door opens for me it’s not the driver standing outside, waiting.
It’s Adrian.
His eyes flash as they settle on me, coming to life as if that’s what I do to him.
Me? I just freeze up.
He looks striking in his suit, but I’m used to seeing him like this at work. What I’m not used to is the way he’s looking at me.