Stella's POV
The ocean breeze whipped through my hair as I pushed the Bentley to its limits, the speedometer needle steadily climbing to one hundred miles per hour. "Ninety, one hundred, one-ten..." I counted under my breath, pressing the accelerator further down.
The car responded beautifully, its powerful engine roaring as we approached a sharp curve. Instead of slowing down, I downshifted and turned the wheel precisely, feeling the tires lose traction just enough to drift perfectly through the turn.
Fuck, I've missed this feeling. Nothing clears the mind like controlled chaos.
The g-force pushed me against the leather seat as we came out of the turn, the car's rear end sliding gracefully before straightening out. I couldn't help the small smile that tugged at my lips—this brief moment of control was exactly what I needed after a day of feeling powerless.
Through my peripheral vision, I noticed Adam watching me with an expression I couldn't quite read. Surprise, certainly, but also something else—interest? Approval?
"What are you looking at?" I asked, my eyes not leaving the road.
"Nothing," he replied calmly. "I didn't know you could drive like this."
I let out a short laugh. "Mr. Lancaster, there's a lot you don't know about me."
At least there's one advantage to him wrecking my car. Controlling bastard.
I had hoped the aggressive driving would make Adam uncomfortable, maybe even make him regret forcing me to drive his car. But he seemed completely unaffected, his breathing steady, his posture relaxed.
Damn it. He's not even a little carsick. I was hoping to see him squirm at least a little.
The disappointment made me push harder, taking the next turn with even more aggression, the car's backend swinging wide before I controlled the drift with practiced precision.
"Where did you learn to drive like this?" Adam asked, sounding genuinely curious.
"Does it matter?" I replied curtly. As if I'd give him the satisfaction of knowing anything more about me right now.
Finally, I spotted a small turnout overlooking the water and abruptly slowed down, pulling off the road. The car's headlights illuminated a narrow stretch of beach below the outcropping.
I switched off the engine and reached for the door handle, suddenly desperate for fresh air, for space away from Adam's overwhelming presence.
"I need some air," I muttered.
Before my hand could touch the handle, Adam moved with unexpected speed. He was out of his seat and leaning over me in an instant, his body effectively pinning me against the driver's seat.
With his other hand, he closed the door I had partially opened and engaged the central locking system.
The click echoed in the suddenly quiet car.
"What the fuck are you doing?" I demanded, his proximity making my heart race.
His face was inches from mine, his green eyes darkened with an emotion I couldn't name. "What are you doing, Stella?"
"Getting some air," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. "Move. Now."
"No." The single word was delivered with such finality that I momentarily lost my ability to respond.
God, he's infuriating when he gets like this. So fucking controlling.
Anger surged through me, breaking through the momentary shock. "What exactly do you want from me, Adam? What is all this about?"
His expression remained frustratingly unreadable. "You returned the offer letter without speaking to me."
I let out an exasperated sigh. "Is that what this is about? An offer letter? You crashed my car, humiliated me in front of Henry, and dragged me out here because of a rejected job offer?"
His jaw tightened slightly. "You saw Grace and left, didn't you?"
"Am I required to report to you whenever I visit GT Group? Is there some rule that says I have to see you every time I'm in the building?" My voice grew louder with each question. "It was just a damn offer letter, Adam! Who cares?"
"I care," he stated simply.
My frustration boiled over. "What exactly do you want from me? It's just a job offer I declined!
Who made the rule that I have to work at your company? When our contract expires, whether I stay or go is my choice. Do I have to sell myself to GT Group just because I collaborated with you once?"
What a control freak. He can't stand not being in charge of everything and everyone around him.
Adam's expression shifted almost imperceptibly. There's something else bothering him. This can't just be about the job.
"GT Group is your best option right now," he said, voice low.
"Is it? GT Group is excellent, sure. But what about Grace?" I challenged, unable to stop myself. "If Grace wanted to join GT Group, would you let her, Adam?"
He seemed taken aback by the question. "Grace hasn't expressed any interest in joining GT Group."
I studied his face carefully, noting the slight hesitation. If Grace asked, he'd probably say yes without a second thought. She'd just bat those pretty eyelashes and he'd fall all over himself to help her.
"I'm done with this conversation," I said flatly, reaching for the door again.
Adam blocked my movement effortlessly. "You are not to call Henry."
The abrupt change of subject caught me off guard. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me," he continued, his voice dangerously quiet. "No calls to Henry."
Something inside me snapped. "Now you're dictating who I can call? Senior and junior classmates can't even maintain contact? I haven't said a word about you drinking with Grace at nightclubs, sending her flowers, or giving her your jacket, but you're micromanaging me this closely?"
"You and Henry, me and Grace—they're not the same," Adam replied, his eyes narrowing slightly.
Of course they're not, I thought bitterly. Henry and I are just classmates. You and Grace are childhood friends with years of history I can never compete with. Years of shared memories, private jokes, probably even teenage crushes.
"You're right," I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "They're not the same at all."
"Stella," Adam warned, "cut the attitude."
A dangerous idea formed in my mind—a petty, childish desire to hurt him as I'd been hurt.
"Maybe next time I come back from a trip abroad, I'll have Henry meet me at the airport with flowers. Then I'll take a group of my junior classmates to Rouge, wearing Henry's jacket the whole time..."
I didn't get to finish. Adam's lips crashed down on mine with bruising force, effectively silencing my provocations. I tried to push him away, my hands pressed against his chest, but he was immovable, his body caging me against the seat.
God, he tastes good even when I'm furious with him. What the hell is wrong with me?
When he finally pulled back, his breathing was ragged, his eyes blazing with something primal and possessive. "Don't you dare," he growled. "Try any of that, Stella, and see what happens."
I managed to push him back into the passenger seat, my own breath coming in short gasps. "Oh, now you're angry? That's rich. I didn't even get angry about all those things."
The implication hung in the air between us—I saw you doing those exact things with Grace, and I didn't make a scene.
Adam's expression darkened as understanding dawned. "It's not the same," he muttered.
"Of course," I said coldly, starting the engine again. "With you, it never is."