Chapter 4 Adeline
Adeline POV
The suitcase sits open on my bed, mocking me. I've been staring at it for twenty minutes, trying to summon the energy to pack for a trip I absolutely don't want to take.
Two weeks. Fourteen days on some private island with my mother, her rich fiancé, and his son. Fourteen days of pretending we're a normal, happy family when I can barely stand to be in the same room with Mom for more than an hour.
My phone buzzes. Another text from her.
Mom: The car will be there at 10 AM sharp. Please be ready. And Adeline? Pack something nice. Richard's home is very elegant.
I don't respond. Haven't responded to most of her messages since our fight two weeks ago. But my silence doesn't matter. She has made it clear that this trip is happening whether I like it or not.
I throw clothes into the suitcase without much thought. Jeans, t-shirts, and a couple of dresses that I'll probably never wear. I'm not trying to impress anyone. I just need to survive two weeks, then I can come back to my real life and forget this whole nightmare ever happened.
The truth is, I've been avoiding Mom for years. Ever since I left for law school, I've made excuses every Christmas. Work, study, commitments. Anything to avoid coming back to her apartment and watching her play house with whatever man was currently footing her bills.
This is the first Christmas we've spent together in four years, and it's only because she guilted me into it.
At 9:55 AM, I am standing outside my apartment building with my suitcase when a sleek black town car pulls up. The driver gets out in a pressed suit and opens the door for me without a word.
"Miss Volkov?" he asks.
I nod, and he takes my suitcase, loading it into the trunk with practiced efficiency.
The interior of the car is ridiculous. Leather seats, a mini bar, and enough legroom for someone twice my height. I slide in and find Mom already there, practically vibrating with excitement.
"Adeline! Oh good, you're on time." She's wearing a designer dress I've never seen before, her makeup is perfect, and her hair is styled like she's going to a photoshoot instead of a vacation. "Doesn't this car have the most amazing seats? Richard sent his driver for us. Can you believe it?"
"It's a car, Mom."
"It's not just a car. It's a statement." She's scrolling through her phone, probably texting Richard. "You're going to love the island, sweetheart. Richard showed me pictures. It's absolutely stunning. The house has twelve bedrooms, a private beach, an infinity pool…"
"That's just too much."
She shoots me a look. "No. It's amazing. Try to have a positive attitude, Addie. This is important to me."
I bite back the dozen sarcastic responses fighting to get out and turn to look out the window instead.
The drive to the private airport takes forty minutes. Mom fills the silence with chatter about Richard. How successful he is, how generous, and how much he adores her. I tune most of it out, watching the city blur past.
When we pull up to the airport, my jaw actually drops. There's a sleek white private jet waiting on the tarmac, the name "AKILOV INDUSTRIES" printed on the side in bold letters.
"Is that—"
"Our ride!" Mom squeals, like a teenager. "Come on!"
I follow her onto the plane, and the interior is even more insane than the car. Cream leather seats that look like they cost more than my entire apartment. Dark wood paneling. A full galley kitchen. A bedroom in the back.
Mom immediately makes herself comfortable, pouring champagne from the bar.
"Want some?" she offers.
"It's 10:30 in the morning."
"We're on vacation!" She takes a sip, sighing blissfully. "I could get used to this."
I'm sure you could, I think, but don't say.
The flight is long—over five hours—and Mom spends most of it talking about the wedding plans. Spring ceremony, probably in Italy. Designer dress. Guest list of people I've never heard of.
"And you'll be my maid of honor, of course," she says at one point.
"Mom—"
"I know we haven't always been close, Adeline. But this is a fresh start for both of us. Richard is going to take care of us. We'll finally have the life we deserve."
The life we deserve. Like poverty was something that happened to us instead of the consequence of her choices.
I don't argue with her. There's no point.
Eventually, she falls asleep, and I'm left alone with my thoughts. I try not to think about Rider. About that night three weeks ago, I haven't been able to forget. About those gray-blue eyes and the way he touched me like he understood all the broken parts of me.
He's gone. It was one night. It doesn't matter.
The plane starts its descent, and I look out the window to see brilliant blue water and white sand beaches. The island is small and lush with tropical vegetation, and in the center sits a massive white mansion that looks like something out of a magazine.
"We're here!"
Mom wakes up, immediately checking her reflection in a compact mirror. "Oh god, do I look okay? Is my makeup smudged?"
"You look fine."
The plane lands smoothly, and within minutes we're being escorted off by more staff—people whose entire job is to make sure we don't have to carry our own luggage or open our own doors.
A white Range Rover is waiting to drive us to the mansion. As we pull up the circular driveway, I see two figures standing at the entrance.
One is an older man. Mid-fifties, maybe with silver hair and a tailored suit despite the tropical heat. He's handsome in that distinguished way rich men always are, with sharp features and an air of authority.
Richard Akilov.
Then I see the man standing next to him, and my heart stops.
Tall. Dark hair. Broad shoulders.
He was wearing jeans and a white button-down with the sleeves rolled up.
I start to freak out, but the car is slowing to a stop.
Mom opens her door and rushes out to greet Richard with a kiss way too intimate for public viewing.
I'm frozen in my seat, unable to move, unable to breathe, because the man standing next to Richard Akilov—the man who's turning to look at our car with polite interest—is Rider.
The stranger I slept with three weeks ago.
Our eyes meet, and color drains from his face. His eyes widen with recognition, and his mouth opens slightly, then closes. His hand, which had been relaxed at his side, clenches into a fist.
"Adeline!" Mom's voice breaks through my paralysis. "Come and meet Richard!"
I force my legs to move, climbing out of the car on shaking knees. This can't be happening. This isn't real.
Richard steps forward, all charm and white teeth. "Adeline! I've heard so much about you. Welcome to our home." He has an accent… Russian. The same accent that—
Oh god.
"Thank you," I manage, my voice sounding distant to my own ears.
"And this is my son, Percy." Richard places a hand on Rider's… Percy's—shoulder with obvious pride. "Percy, this is Melissa's daughter, Adeline."
Percy extends his hand mechanically, his face carefully blank. But his eyes, those storm-gray eyes that I've dreamed about for three weeks, are filled with the same horror that's currently choking me.
"Nice to meet you," he says, his voice tight.
I take his hand because I have to. Richard and Mom watching intently. Oh my God, this is a total nightmare.
His touch burns in an electric, familiar, and wrong way.
"Same," I force out.
Mom is beaming. "Oh, how wonderful! You're both around the same age. I just know you're going to get along so well!"
Richard nods enthusiastically. "Indeed! Percy can show you around the island tomorrow, Adeline. You will have plenty of time to get to know each other. After all…" he pulls Mom close, kissing her temple, "…you're family now."
Family.
The word lands like a bomb.
I had a one-night stand with my about-to-be stepbrother.
Percy's jaw clenches. He swallows hard.
"That sounds... great," I say, wishing to die.
"Come, come!" Richard gestures toward the mansion. "Let's get you settled. We're having a family dinner tonight to celebrate everyone being together. I hope you brought something nice to wear, Adeline. Or you could just go shopping."
He and Mom walk ahead, his arm around her waist, talking and laughing.
Percy and I remain frozen.
"Ghost," he breathes, so quietly I almost don't hear it.
"Don't," I whisper back harshly. "Don't call me that."
"We need to talk…"
"There's nothing to talk about." I force myself to step back. "It never happened. We never happened. Understand?"
His eyes flash with anger, maybe, or desperation. "Adeline—"
"Miss Volkov!" One of the staff appears. "Let me show you to your room."
I've never been more grateful for an interruption in my life.
I follow the staff member into the mansion, leaving Percy standing in the driveway. I don't look back, but I can feel his eyes on me.
Two weeks.
I have to survive two weeks on this island with the man I had the best sex of my life with, pretending he's my soon stepbrother, pretending that night never happened.