Chapter 16: Business and Pleasure .
Selene
I nod.
Just like that, the words tumble from my lips before I can second-guess myself. “Okay… I’ll come with you.”
Adrian exhales, like he’s been holding his breath since he asked. His shoulders relax just slightly, and then he gives me a slow, almost boyish smile. It completely disarms me.
“I’ll book the flight,” he says, his voice softer now. “We’ll leave tomorrow morning.”
“Tomorrow?” I blink. “You move fast.”
“That’s kind of my thing,” he replies with a wink. “You’ll learn, besides I was supposed to leave tonight.”
My stomach does a flip that has nothing to do with caffeine or nerves and everything to do with the man standing way too close in a hallway that suddenly feels too small.
He takes a small step back, finally giving me room to breathe—though I’m not sure I want it. “Go finish things up with Wickem. I’ll see you tonight.”
“Tonight?” I arch a brow.
He smiles with that frustrating, sexy confidence. “I’m not nearly done being shown around . ”
And just like that, he disappears down the corridor, leaving me stunned and buzzing in his wake.
I exhale and fix my blouse, reminding myself I still have to deal with John freaking Wickem, the billionaire with wandering eyes and a mouth full of suggestions that don’t belong anywhere near me. Men as wealthy as him are even worse playboys then most.
I re-enter the boardroom with the same poise I always wear in meetings, folder in hand, chin slightly raised.
John looks up with a smirk. “Everything alright?”
“Perfect,” I say, sliding into my seat. “Now, if we can get back to these figures “.
He gives me a long, lazy glance like I’m some kind of novelty, then chuckles. “Of course. Though I have to say, I didn’t expect to be so thoroughly impressed—and not just by the numbers.”
There it is again. That tone. That challenge in his voice.
“I suggest you keep your expectations focused on our projections,” I reply coolly. “Flirting with the company’s business developer won’t improve your ROI.”
Jonathan would’ve burst out laughing at that line. Wickem, however, just raises an eyebrow.
“Tough and clever,” he murmurs. “Dangerous combination.”
I smile with all my teeth. “Only if you underestimate me.”
He leans back, eyes assessing, but I’m already turning pages, walking him through the next set of graphs like he’s just another quarterly obstacle. Because he is, I’ve decided to keep my distance from this one.
The meeting wraps up without incident, but I can still feel the weight of his gaze on me as he stands.
“Until next time,” he says, extending his hand.
I shake it briefly. “I’m sure we’ll be in touch.”
He lets go, reluctantly, and exits with a nod toward Jonathan who has stepped in to the boardroom to say goodbye. Once the door closes, I let out the breath I’ve been holding.
Jonathan grins from across the table. “You fried that man’s brain. I’m surprised he remembered how to walk out.”
“Men like that are predictably dangerous ” I mutter. “And exhausting.”
He tilts his head, watching me. “You good?”
I nod. “Yes. Actually… Adrian asked me to go with him to Cali for a few days. You’re okay with that?”
“Already gave him the green light,” he says. “Told him if you don’t come back, I’ll kill him.”
“Charming.”
“Family first,” he shrugs. “And also… I know you, Selene. You don’t do this,” he gestures vaguely, “unless there’s something real.”
That shuts me up for a second. Because he’s right. And I don’t even know what I’ve gotten myself into yet.
The next morning comes fast.
I barely sleep. Between packing, double-checking documents for the work I’ll be handling remotely, and staring at my phone like a giddy teenager, I’m a mess of nerves and anticipation till Adrian called to say he was outside my place. Last night was amazing , Adrian took me out for dinner at some expensive restaurant and we just sat and talked about till closing time. He drove me to my apartment and walked me to my door and refused to come in, but kissed me and groped me like there was no tomorrow and left me panting with desire.
Adrian picks me up in a sleek black SUV, dressed in casual black jeans and a fitted dark henley that really should be illegal. He looks relaxed. Comfortable. And still absurdly hot.
He takes one look at me, bites back a smile. “Youre nervous?”
“Not even a little,” I lie.
“Liar.”
He loads my suitcase into the back and opens the passenger door for me like a damn gentleman. “Come on, Mistress. Let’s see how you handle West Coast chaos.”
The flight is… surprisingly intimate.
We’re seated in first class, side by side, and the second we’re in the air, he leans toward me.
“You sure about this?” he asks quietly.
I glance over at him. “No.”
He chuckles.
“But I want to be,” I add. “I just don’t know what this is yet.”
His eyes hold mine. “It’s whatever we want it to be.”
That should be comforting. But I feel like I’m walking a tightrope without a safety net—and I’m trusting him to catch me.
He reaches for my hand. Just a gentle brush of his lips against my fingers. “Let’s figure it out together.”
I nod, and for a moment, the world softens as we spend the flight canoodling like teenagers.
We land in L.A. just before sunset. The sky is painted in warm streaks of gold and violet, and the air feels like a different life. Adrian drives us from the airport in a dark luxury sedan, music low, hand occasionally brushing mine on the center console.
When we pull up to his apartment—no, his penthouse—I try not to let my jaw drop. The man lives like a Bond villain with but better taste.
Modern, minimalist, with panoramic views of the city. Floor-to-ceiling windows. Leather everything. And a stocked bar that would make a hotel jealous.
“You live here?” I ask, stepping inside.
“Sometimes,” he says with a smirk. “Depends where the chaos is.”
I walk toward the window and stare out at the glowing city below. “It’s beautiful.”
“Not as beautiful as you,” he says, coming up behind me.
I roll my eyes, laughing. “Do you ever turn it off?”
His hands settle lightly on my hips. “Only when you ask nicely, and besides I’m always charming and you’re just that beautiful and hot.”
Oh, no.
I turn to face him. That familiar sexual tension between us crackles in the air like electricity before a storm. He’s so close, his breath brushing my cheek, his gaze locked onto mine like he’s waiting for permission to devour me.
And God help me—I want to be devoured.
But first, I need to know something.
“Adrian,” I whisper. “Is this real, or just another extended weekend?”
His lips hover just over mine, his fingers curling around my waist.
“This,” he murmurs, “is the start of something I don’t want to end.”
And then he kisses me.
Not like he’s trying to win me over. Not like a man who’s trying to prove something.
He kisses me like he already has me—and knows I’m not going anywhere.