Chapter 109 109
THE world seemed to tilt when Amelia’s eyes locked with his.
“Adrian…” The name slipped past her lips before she could swallow it down. It gushed out.
His presence overwhelmed her senses, it always did. Tall, broad-shouldered, every inch of him wrapped in authority. He wore a tuxedo tailored to perfection, his cologne subtle yet commanding, the kind that lingered long after he was gone. And now, he stood there, blocking her way out of the corridor, the faintest flicker of surprise in his eyes quickly masked by something deeper.
“Amelia,” he said quietly, as if tasting her name after months of thirst. His voice was smooth, carrying a weight that made her knees falter.
Her clutch trembled slightly in her grip. Why was he always bumping into her?
“What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice steadier than she felt.
Adrian’s lips curved into a half-smile, though his eyes betrayed him, they were stormy and searching.
“You knew I would be here. Or at least,” he tilted his head slightly, “you should have expected it. These galas thrive on reputation. And mine hasn’t changed.”
She let out a small scoff.
“I didn't know… you would be here,” she scoffed again, “always the arrogant one.”
“Or always the truthful one,” he countered softly, his gaze not wavering.
The corridor stretched silent except for the faint hum of music drifting from the hall. Amelia tried to sidestep him, but Adrian moved with her, his presence blocking the way.
“I don’t have time for this,” she muttered.
“Then make time,” he said, firmer now, though low, as if restraining himself. His eyes softened, tracing her face in a way that unnerved her. “Since you have been giving me cold receptions, I have waited too long to only bump into you by chance and let you walk away again.”
Her breath hitched, her lips parting to respond, but he continued before she could speak.
“Why do you keep pushing me out of your world?” he asked. “Isn’t it enough that fate keeps pulling us back into the same spaces? Or do you think you can outrun me forever?”
Amelia swallowed, anger flaring to mask the rising ache in her chest. Was he mad?
“Don’t twist this into fate. It is not fate, Adrian, it is you. You are the one showing up everywhere. My boutique. My flower shop. Now here. Do you think this is some game?”
His jaw clenched. He leaned slightly closer, not touching her, but close enough that the air between them thickened.
“No game, Amelia. This is me fighting for what I lost. For what I let slip away.”
Her pulse thundered. Her voice, sharp yet trembling, came out before she could stop it.
“You can’t just appear and expect me to—”
“Expect you to what?” Adrian cut in, his voice low, almost pained. “To remember? To forgive? To see that I’m not the man who let you go? Because, Amelia, I am not him anymore.”
Her breath caught. For the briefest second, she saw the crack in his armor, the plea in his eyes he tried to bury.
And then—
“Amelia.”
The voice broke through like ice water.
She turned sharply. Ryan stood there at the end of the corridor, his tall frame taut with tension, his fists curling and uncurling at his sides. His sharp tuxedo matched his controlled demeanor, but his stormy and dark eyes were locked on Adrian with unmistakable fire.
“So,” Adrian whispered as he turned to her, “he now calls you by your name, huh?” He asked softly and Amelia rolled her eyes.
Adrian straightened slowly, his expression shifting into something colder, almost smug, as he acknowledged Ryan.
“Well,” he murmured, “speak of the guardian.”
Ryan strode closer, his arm brushing Amelia’s protectively as he reached her side.
“What is going on here?” His voice was low, measured, but the undertone of jealousy cracked through.
Amelia opened her mouth, but Adrian spoke first.
“So, you now address your boss by her name?” he asked, looking straight at him.
Ryan’s jaw tightened.
“That is none of your business, Mr. Cole,” he shortly replied.
Adrian’s eyes flickered with something dark and teasing, almost daring.
“You think so?” His gaze slid to Amelia, lingering before returning to Ryan. “You seem awfully concerned for something so harmless.”
Ryan’s nostrils flared, but his voice remained cool.
“I’m concerned because I know your type, Cole. You have had your chance. You lost it. And now you are circling back like a vulture.”
Adrian’s lips curved into a faint smirk.
“A vulture? Interesting. I thought of myself more as a man who knows the value of what he lost, and isn’t too proud to fight for it.”
Amelia’s heart pounded as the two men squared off, both tall, both commanding, their words sharp as blades. She could feel the heat of Ryan’s anger beside her and the intensity of Adrian’s longing across from her. It was a clash of worlds, past and present worlds, love and loss, loyalty and longing. It got heated, and she couldn't take it anymore.
“Enough,” Amelia finally said, her voice louder than intended. She stepped forward, her gaze darting between the two. “This is not the place. Not the time. If either of you cares even a little about dignity, you will stop this ridiculous—”
But Adrian’s voice cut through, softer now, almost tender as he addressed her, ignoring Ryan entirely.
“Amelia, tell me the truth. Do you feel nothing seeing me here?”
Her lips parted, her throat tightening. She wanted to deny it, to push him away with cold words, but her silence betrayed her, and Ryan saw it, the hesitation, the flicker in her eyes, and his hand clenched at his side.
“You won't answer that, ma'am, will you?” Ryan said, his voice edged with subtle humour. He looked at Adrian with a deadly calm.
“If you have an ounce of respect left, Cole, walk away. Tonight. Right now.”
Adrian’s gaze didn’t move from Amelia, though his jaw tightened. This Ryan guy was really out to mar his chances of seeing Amelia. Well, he was ready for him. Slowly and deliberately, he nodded once, his eyes holding hers as if making a silent vow. Then, with a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, he murmured, “We will see about that.”
He stepped aside, letting Amelia pass. She brushed past him quickly, Ryan guiding her firmly with a hand at her back.
Adrian lingered a moment longer, watching them retreat into the crowded hall. His chest burned with frustration, but beneath it, a stubborn flame roared brighter.
He wasn’t done. Not yet.