Chapter 21 TRAPPED TOGETHER
POV: Selena
The phone vibrated again.
It rattled against the marble counter so hard it almost slid off the edge. I lunged for it on instinct, catching it before it fell, my heart already pounding like I had dropped it.
Another unknown number.
Another headline preview lighting up the screen.
I did not open it.
I could not.
“Selena,” Adrian said sharply from behind me. “Put it down.”
“I just want to see if it’s Marcus,” I replied, even though I knew it was not. Marcus would not call like this. Marcus would not text in fragments that screamed scandal.
The phone buzzed again in my palm.
Adrian crossed the room in three long strides and gently took it from my hand. He turned it face down on the counter and slid it out of reach.
“Enough,” he said. “They don’t get access to you.”
I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly aware of how small I felt in this massive penthouse. The walls were quiet, but the silence was loud. Pressured. Waiting.
“They’re saying I ran away with you,” I said. “They’re calling me mysterious. That’s never a good word.”
Adrian exhaled slowly. “They always need a villain. Or a distraction.”
“I don’t want to be either,” I said.
“You’re not,” he replied immediately.
I wanted to believe that. I really did.
Outside, the sound of distant traffic drifted through the windows, mixed with something sharper. Voices. Shouts. Camera shutters.
“They’re still there,” I said, peering through the glass.
“Yes,” Adrian said. “And they will be for a while.”
“So we’re trapped,” I said.
He did not deny it.
“Yes,” he said. “For now.”
The word settled heavily in my chest.
Trapped together.
That should have sounded romantic. Or exciting. Or dangerous in a thrilling way.
Instead, it felt like standing on a narrow bridge with no railings.
We tried to work.
That was the plan, at least.
Laptops open. Documents spread across the dining table. Financial records, timelines, notes Marcus had forwarded before the situation exploded.
I stared at numbers until they blurred.
“You’re not reading,” Adrian said.
“I am,” I lied.
He leaned over my shoulder, pointing at the screen. “You’ve been on the same line for five minutes.”
I closed my eyes briefly. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” he said. “This isn’t normal pressure.”
“I grew up under pressure,” I said without thinking.
He paused. “I know. But this is different.”
I looked up at him. “How?”
“This is targeted,” he said. “They are not just watching. They are shaping a story.”
My stomach twisted.
“What story?” I asked.
He hesitated, then answered honestly. “That you planned this. That you climbed your way into my life.”
The words hurt more than I expected.
I pushed my chair back and stood. “That’s exactly what I was afraid of.”
Adrian followed me into the living room. “Selena, look at me.”
I turned.
“They can say whatever they want,” he continued. “But truth does not change just because it’s shouted over a camera.”
I laughed once, bitter and sharp. “You’ve never been poor, Adrian.”
His face tightened. “That’s true.”
“You don’t know what it’s like to have people assume the worst,” I said. “To decide who you are before you even speak.”
“I know betrayal,” he said quietly.
“That’s not the same,” I replied.
“No,” he agreed. “But it taught me something.”
“What?” I asked.
“That trust is a choice,” he said. “And I am choosing you.”
The words knocked the air from my lungs.
Before I could respond, his phone rang.
He glanced at the screen and grimaced. “Marcus.”
He answered. “We’re fine. No, we’re not leaving. I don’t care what my father thinks.”
I turned away, giving him privacy, but I could still hear Marcus’s raised voice through the speaker.
“You’re making this worse,” Marcus argued. “The optics are terrible.”
“I didn’t ask for optics,” Adrian snapped. “I asked for time.”
He ended the call abruptly.
“He’s not happy,” I said.
“Marcus rarely is,” Adrian replied.
“What about your father?” I asked.
His jaw clenched. “He thinks silence is guilt.”
“And Diana?” I asked carefully.
Something cold flickered in his eyes. “She thinks silence is an opportunity.”
I did not ask him to explain.
Instead, I said, “We should eat something.”
He nodded. “Yes. You’re right.”
We ordered food. Too much of it. Neither of us was really hungry, but the act felt normal, grounding.
When it arrived, Adrian checked the hallway camera before opening the door. I watched him, noticing how alert he was, how controlled. This was a man trained to anticipate threats.
We ate on opposite ends of the couch at first.
Then closer.
Our knees brushed.
Neither of us moved away.
“I keep thinking about that call,” I said suddenly.
“The threat?” he asked.
“Yes,” I replied. “About the money.”
His hand tightened around his glass. “You were never supposed to hear that.”
“But I did,” I said. “And now I can’t stop wondering who else knows.”
“That’s why you’re here,” he said. “Where I can see you.”
The words sent a strange warmth through me.
“I don’t want to be your responsibility,” I said.
“You’re not,” he replied. “You’re my choice.”
The room went quiet.
“You say things like that too easily,” I murmured.
“No,” he said. “I say them because I don’t say them often.”
I studied his face. The tension around his eyes. The weariness beneath the control.
“Tell me about Elena,” I said softly.
His shoulders stiffened. “Why?”
“Because I want to understand,” I replied. “Not judge.”
He leaned back, staring at the ceiling for a long moment.
“She was brilliant,” he began. “Sharp. Ambitious. She knew how to read people.”
“That sounds like a compliment,” I said.
“It was,” he replied. “Until she read me.”
I stayed silent.
“She learned what scared me,” he continued. “What made me hesitate. And she used it.”
My chest ached for him.
“When I found out,” he said, “she told me it was just business. That emotions were liabilities.”
“That must have hurt,” I said.
“It taught me to keep distance,” he replied.
I swallowed. “And yet here we are.”
“Yes,” he said, turning to me. “Here we are.”
My heart raced.
“I’m scared too,” I admitted. “Not of you. Of what this looks like.”
He reached out, his fingers hovering near my hand. “What does it feel like?”
I answered honestly. “Like something real in a world that punishes honesty.”
His thumb brushed my knuckles. “That’s exactly what it feels like to me.”
The space between us disappeared slowly.
Deliberately.
His hand lifted, fingers tracing the line of my jaw. My breath caught. I could feel the heat of him, the steadiness, the restraint barely holding.
“Adrian,” I whispered.
His eyes searched mine. “Tell me to stop.”
I did not.
The doorbell rang.
Once.
Twice.
Sharp and demanding.
We froze.
My pulse roared in my ears.
“Don’t move,” Adrian said quietly.
He stood, motioning for me to stay behind him. He checked the camera monitor.
“Who is it?” I whispered.
His expression darkened. “That,” he said, “is what we are about to find out.”
The bell rang again.
Louder.
Insistent.
And whatever waited on the other side was about to change everything.