She was a supermodel—tall, blonde, and impossibly beautiful, with a dress that clung to her body in a way that left little to the imagination. The sight of them together was like a punch to the gut. Clara had been so hopeful that tonight would be special, that Adrian would see her and be reminded of the connection they shared. But now, all she could think about was the woman by his side.
Clara tried to hide her disappointment, but it was impossible to ignore the sinking feeling in her chest. She forced a smile as the rest of the guests greeted Adrian and his date, but inside, she was struggling to keep her emotions in check.
With a mischievous grin, Elena leaned over and whispered, “Want to get out of here for a bit? I’ve got something…” Clara raised an eyebrow, intrigued but hesitant.
Before she could answer, Elena had already snuck over to the bar, returning with a bottle of vodka tucked under her arm. “Come on,” Elena said, her eyes sparkling. “Let’s have some fun.”
They sneaked away to a quiet corner of the venue and poured shots into two crystal glasses. Elena handed Clara one and raised her own.
Clara smirked, clinking her glass against Elena’s before knocking back the shot. The vodka burned her throat, but it numbed some of the anger bubbling inside her. They took a few more shots, laughing as the alcohol began to take effect. Clara felt herself loosening up, her inhibitions melting away under the warm buzz of the vodka. But instead of calming her, the alcohol only fueled her growing obsession with Adrian and the model at his side.
Clara set her glass down, her eyes scanning the room until they found Adrian once more. The sight of him, still with the beautiful woman, made her chest tighten. She was done with this. Done with pretending she didn’t care.
Her emotions bubbled beneath the surface as she watched Adrian and the supermodel glide through the crowd like they owned the room. Her heart pounded as jealousy gnawed at her, but she plastered on a polite smile as she made her way toward them, Elena just trailing behind her. If Adrian thought he could just waltz into the ball with a random woman on his arm and not provoke some kind of reaction from her, he was sorely mistaken.
Her heels clicked against the polished floor, and as she approached them, she saw Adrian stiffen slightly, sensing her presence. His eyes met hers, and for a brief moment, Clara saw something flicker in him—guilt? Concern? It didn’t matter. She was determined to confront him.
“Adrian,” she said in a voice far too sweet, offering him a polite smile. “Good to see you here.”
Adrian returned her gaze, clearly caught off guard by her pleasant demeanor. “Clara,” he greeted, his voice measured, though she could sense the tension beneath it. “You look stunning tonight.”
“Thank you,” she replied, glancing briefly at his date, the beautiful supermodel at his side. “And you must be…”
The model, smiling politely, extended her hand. “Isabel,” she introduced herself, her voice smooth and refined.
Clara took Isabel’s hand, shaking it lightly, her smile barely concealing her irritation. “Nice to meet you, Isabel.”
There was a brief, awkward silence before Clara’s eyes flickered between Adrian and Isabel. Then, without missing a beat, she asked, “So, Isabel, how old are you?”
Isabel looked slightly startled by the question, clearly not expecting it. She hesitated for a moment, her smile faltering before she answered. “I’m 25.”
Clara raised an eyebrow, her smile turning into a smirk. “Oh, 25? That’s a decade younger than what I would've guessed…” Her voice was light and sweet, but the jab was unmistakable.
Isabel blinked, taken aback by the remark, her confusion evident. She clearly didn’t know how to respond, glancing at Adrian for some kind of cue.
Adrian’s eyes darkened as he shot Clara a sharp look. “Clara,” he warned quietly, but she wasn’t done yet. She could feel her bravado building, fueled by jealousy and the vodka still buzzing in her veins.
“What?” Clara said innocently, batting her eyelashes. “It’s just a harmless question, Adrian.”
Isabel shifted awkwardly beside him, clearly uncomfortable now. “I—um, I think I’ll go get a drink,” she mumbled, excusing herself from the tension.
As soon as Isabel walked away, Clara dropped the act. Her polite facade crumbled as the anger inside her boiled over, and she crossed her arms, glaring at Adrian. “So, enjoying yourself with your date?” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
Adrian’s jaw clenched, the tension between them thickening. “What’s wrong with you, Clara?” he asked, his voice low and laced with frustration. “You’re acting like a child.”
“Maybe I’m just tired of being treated like one,” Clara shot back, her voice rising slightly as her emotions bubbled to the surface.
“Keep it cool,” Adrian said through gritted teeth, trying to maintain control as people started to glance their way. “Stop making a scene.”
But Clara wasn’t done. Fueled by the alcohol and her burning jealousy, she tilted her chin up, her voice challenging. “I’m not making a scene. Yet. But maybe I should. After all, if you can bring your date here, maybe I should find someone to keep me company tonight too. Maybe Henry. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind kissing me in the garden. He did that before…”
Adrian’s expression darkened at her words, the jealousy she had been aiming for hitting its mark. His eyes narrowed as his temper flared. “Don’t test me, Clara,” he warned, his voice barely above a growl.
Clara smirked, pushing him further. “What? Would it bother you? You don’t seem to care about what I do, so why should I care if you get mad?”
Adrian’s patience snapped. Without another word, he grabbed her arm, his grip firm but not painful, and pulled her away from the crowd, leading her toward a more secluded room, away from the prying eyes of the party.
As soon as they were alone, Adrian turned to face her, his anger clear in his expression. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Clara met his glare, her heart pounding in her chest as she crossed her arms defiantly. “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m having fun. Isn’t that what we’re supposed to be doing? It’s a party!”
Adrian stepped closer, his voice low and dangerous. “You’re drunk, Clara. And you’re acting like a fucking brat. Why?”
Clara scoffed, her emotions bubbling over. “I’m not acting like a brat! It’s not my fault your new girl couldn’t take a joke!”
Adrian’s eyes flashed with understanding, and he let out a frustrated sigh. “So that’s what this is about? You’re jealous.”
Clara’s cheeks flushed with anger. “I’m not jealous!” she protested, even though it was obvious.
Adrian’s grip on her arm tightened slightly, his own frustration bubbling to the surface. “Clara, you need to stop. You can’t go around acting all jealous and provoking me in public, no one is supposed to know about us, we have to be careful.”
Clara looked up at him, her heart aching with the intensity of her feelings. She hated the situation they were in—hated the secrecy, the lies, the jealousy that ate away at her. But despite everything, despite her anger and frustration, she couldn’t let him go.
“I don’t want to be careful anymore,” she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. “I just want you.”
Adrian stared at her, his expression softening as he took in the vulnerability in her eyes. Slowly, he let go of her arm, his hand reaching up to cup her cheek. “Clara…”
But before he could say anything more, she leaned in and kissed him, her lips desperate and searching for reassurance. Adrian responded immediately, his hands pulling her closer, his kiss filled with the same desperation and intensity that matched her own.