Chapter 17 Chapter 17
I woke up the next morning feeling as if I’d run a marathon in my sleep. My head was heavy, my body aching with emotions I didn’t know how to categorize anymore. Somewhere between fear, hope, and that strange pull Adrian had on me… I wasn’t sure which one was winning, and that terrified me more than anything Daniel had ever done.
I sat up slowly in the huge guest bedroom Adrian had assigned to me. It wasn’t just spacious—it was peaceful. Soft gray curtains, warm lighting, freshly arranged flowers on the desk. I couldn’t remember the last time I woke up in a place that didn’t feel like a battlefield.
My phone buzzed on the nightstand.
A message from Adrian.
Breakfast. Downstairs. Don’t disappear. – A.
A tired laugh left me. Only Adrian would text like he was summoning a business associate to a board meeting.
I washed up quickly and headed downstairs. The scent of pancakes, cinnamon, and something warm made my stomach tighten. When I entered the dining room, Adrian was already seated, scrolling through documents on a tablet.
He looked up the second he sensed me. His gaze sharpened, scanning me like he was checking for damage.
“You didn’t sleep,” he said, not asking—stating.
I shrugged. “It’s been a long week.”
“It’s been a long life,” he corrected.
I didn’t know what to do with that.
We ate in a quiet, comfortable silence. And that was the strange thing—silence with Adrian didn’t feel awkward or empty. It felt… steady. Like the world could fall apart and he’d still sit there calmly planning how to rebuild it.
When we were done, he leaned back, studying me with a seriousness that made me straighten up.
“Elena,” he began, “I’m moving the timeline forward.”
My stomach tightened. “The plan?”
“Yes.” He stood and walked around the table until he was standing beside me. “Daniel made a move last night.”
“What?” My voice broke without permission.
“He transferred funds from your father’s old account. Unauthorized. That means he’s preparing for something some kind of exit strategy.”
The room tilted slightly. “You think he’s trying to cut me off?”
He didn’t sugarcoat it. “I know he is.”
A cold wave passed through me, freezing my breath. “What do we do?”
“We go public sooner,” he said. “The partnership. The contract marriage. It needs to happen now.”
The words echoed in my head. Contract marriage.
We’d discussed it, but only in theory—like some faraway strategy we’d eventually get to.
Now it was real.
“I don’t want to force you,” he added quietly. “You can say no.”
His voice had softened in a way I rarely heard. Like he knew how heavy this was for me.
“I didn’t say no,” I whispered.
He studied my face for a long moment, as if he was trying to read emotions I didn’t even understand myself. Then he nodded once.
“Good. Then we start preparing. But first—” His gaze flicked to the staircase, then to me again. “You and I need to fix something between us.”
My heartbeat kicked into my throat. “Fix what?”
“The tension,” he said simply. “You freeze whenever I get too close. You jump every time I touch your hand.” His eyes held mine, steady and unflinching. “If we’re going to pull off a believable engagement in public, that can’t happen.”
Heat crept up my neck.
“I don’t freeze,” I muttered, which was absolutely a lie.
He lifted one eyebrow. “You do.”
I looked away, embarrassed—and slightly annoyed he’d noticed something I hadn’t even noticed about myself.
“What are you suggesting?” I asked stiffly.
“A date.”
I blinked. “A… what?”
“A practice date,” he clarified, like that made it any less shocking. “Tonight. Something simple. Something that lets us learn each other’s rhythm before everyone starts watching.”
My pulse jumped so hard I almost felt dizzy. “A date with you… for practice.”
“Yes.”
“And this helps the plan how?”
“It helps you stop panicking every time I’m within three feet of you,” he replied dryly.
I shot him a glare, but he wasn’t wrong, and we both knew it.
“Fine,” I muttered. “One date. Practice.”
Something flickered in his eyes—amusement, maybe satisfaction. I couldn’t tell.
“Good,” he said. “Wear something comfortable.”
Comfortable? What did that even mean to a billionaire whose wardrobe probably cost more than my apartment?
The rest of the day slipped by in a strange blur. I tried writing, reading, anything to pull my mind away from what tonight meant. But it didn’t work. My thoughts kept circling back to Adrian, to the plan, to the weight of everything looming over us.
By evening, I stood in front of the mirror in a simple black dress, my hands shaking slightly as I adjusted the straps. I didn’t want to look too eager. Or too nervous. Or too anything.
I heard a soft knock.
“Elena?” Adrian’s voice came from the other side.
I exhaled sharply. “Come in.”
The door opened, and he froze—not dramatically, not theatrically. Just a subtle halt, like he’d walked into something unexpected.
“You look…” He paused, searching for a word. “…put together.”
I almost laughed. Only Adrian Blake could make a compliment sound like a financial report.
“You clean up okay too,” I said.
His lips twitched—the closest thing to a smile I might get.
He nodded toward the hallway. “Ready?”
“Not even a little.”
“Good. Means you’ll be paying attention.”
We walked out together. A sleek car waited outside, but instead of the usual cold professionalism, the air between us felt different tonight. Looser. Charged.
The restaurant he brought me to wasn’t loud or extravagant—it was quiet, warm, softly lit. Somewhere intimacy wasn’t forced but naturally woven into the atmosphere.
We sat across from each other, and for the first time, Adrian wasn’t strategizing or issuing instructions. He was… present.
And that scared me more than all the planning in the world.
He watched me over his glass. “Tell me something true.”
The question caught me off guard. “Like what?”
“Something real. Not revenge. Not Daniel. Something about you.”
I hesitated, then said softly, “I don’t know who I am without the pain anymore.”
He was silent for a long moment, then said, “You will.”
It wasn’t a promise. It was certainty.
“Your turn,” I said, needing to shift the focus off me.
He leaned back, eyes narrowing slightly as he considered his response.
“I don’t let people close,” he said finally. “Ever. But I let you in anyway.”
My breath caught.
Not because he said it with emotion—but because he said it at all.
Before I could respond, a familiar voice erupted behind me.
“Elena?”
I turned—and ice flooded my veins.
Daniel stood at the entrance of the restaurant.
And beside him…
Mandy.
Her hand linked with his.
She froze when she saw me.
Then her gaze slid to Adrian.
Her smile faltered.
Daniel’s turned cold.
Adrian didn’t look surprised at all.
“Perfect timing,” he murmured.
I didn’t know whether he meant for the plan…
or for something much more dangerous.