Stella’s POV
The bass thrummed through my bones as I made my way to the hidden back entrance of the VIP area. Sam was already waiting in our private booth, a bottle of ridiculously expensive champagne chilling beside her.
"Spill!" She practically bounced in her seat. "Congratulations on your marriage ." The way she said the word dripped with sarcasm.
I slid into the booth, gratefully accepting the glass she pushed my way. "Please, let's not discuss that bastard tonight."
"Then what happened at the mall? The gossip sites are going crazy!"
"I met Lucy. And Brian. And..." I touched my lips again without thinking.
Sam's eyes narrowed. "What was that?"
"What was what?"
"You lips. Did something happen with—" Her eyes went wide. "Oh my God. Did he kiss you?"
The champagne suddenly became fascinating. "Maybe?"
"Details! Now!"
"It wasn't... I mean, he was angry about the mall incident, and then suddenly he just..." I took a large sip of champagne. "Then he kicked me out of the car."
"He what?" Sam's perfectly sculpted eyebrows shot up. "Wait, start from the beginning. What mall incident?"
I was starting explaining.
Sam's expression softened then she changed a topic. "By the way, still no leads on your real parents?"
The question hit a raw nerve, as it always did. "Eight years of searching," I said quietly. "The DNA test that proved I wasn't a Winston was just the beginning. I've hired private investigators, enen bribed hospital staff." A bitter laugh escaped me. "All I know is that I'm definitely not their daughter, and someone hid where I really came from."
"And the Winstons never suspected?"
"Oh, they knew." I forced myself to relax. "Why do you think they were so eager to marry me off to a 'cripple’? "
Sam's hand covered mine. "Hey, their loss is my gain. Without their idiocy, I'd never have gained such an amazing business partner." She gestured around us at the opulent VIP room. "Look what we've built together! Last month's revenue was up 40% from last year."
I pulled out my tablet, bringing up the latest financial reports, "the new offshore account structure is working perfectly. "
A notification popped up on my screen: Lab Report - Experiment 247 - FAILURE
"Damn." I quickly closed the notification, but Sam had already seen it.
"Still no breakthrough?" Her voice was gentle.
I shook my head, pushing away memories of endless nights in the lab, failed test after failed test. "The cellular regeneration rate is still too unstable. I need to recalibrate the entire parameter set..."
"Stop please, I can’t understand." Sam's mock confusion made me smile despite my frustration.
"Sorry." I rubbed my temples, feeling the familiar tension headache building.
Sam studied me for a long moment. "You know, most people would be satisfied with being a successful nightclub owner and society darling. But no, you had to add 'groundbreaking medical researcher' to your resume."
"What can I say? I'm an overachiever." The attempt at humor fell flat even to my own ears.
"Stella." Sam's voice turned serious. "You don't have to prove anything to them. The Winstons, the Lancasters – they don't define who you are."
Before I could respond, a commotion erupted from the hallway. The VIP floor manager's voice carried through the door, uncharacteristically flustered. "Sir, you can’t enter this area—"
"Is it?" The tone was unmistakable. "I wasn't aware any part of New York was restricted to me."
Shit.
Sam's eyes widened. "Is that—"
"My dear husband? Yes." I smoothed my expression into careful neutrality just as the door swung open.
Adam filled the doorway in his wheelchair. Those green eyes landing on me. The corner of his mouth curved into a dangerous smile.
"Mrs. Lancaster." The way he said my title made me shiver – and not entirely unpleasant ones. "What a... coincidence."
"Mr. Lancaster." I matched his tone, cool. "I wasn't aware you frequented nightclubs."
His eyes flickered to Sam, then back to me. The intensity of his gaze made my skin tingle. Stop looking at me like that. I can't think when you look at me like that. "I just come usually."
He took a step closer, and I fought the urge to retreat. "But when I see my wife sneaking into here..." Another move. "Let's just say my curiosity was piqued."
Sam rose smoothly, her posture relaxed but ready to leave. "Samantha Torres," she introduced herself with a predatory smile of her own. "Stella's friend. We are just have a drink here."
"Oh?" Adam's eyebrow arched .
My heart skipped a beat. Had he heard something?
"Come here." His voice dropped to that dangerous whisper that seemed to bypass my brain and go straight to my nervous system.
I hesitated, glancing at Sam. She gave me a subtle nod and she squeezed my shoulder as she passed. "Call if you need anything, honey."
The door closed behind her with a soft click that seemed to echo in the sudden silence. Adam's presence seemed to fill the room, making it hard to breathe normally.
"Well?" He was close enough now that I could smell that maddening cologne of his. "No warm welcome for your husband?"
I forced myself to meet his gaze steadily. "I wasn't aware we were at the 'warm welcome' stage of our arrangement."
"Arrangement?" His laugh held no humor. "Is that what you call it?" His hand shot out, faster than I could dodge, gripping my chin. "Tell me, Mrs. Lancaster , what other secretes are you hiding?"
The heat of his touch sent sparks of electricity through my body, making it hard to think straight. "I'm not hiding anything."
"No?" His thumb traced my bottom lip, the gesture somehow both threatening and sensual. “ Then why you come here?”
I am the owner. But I couldn't say that . "Just have fun."
"Try again." His other hand found my waist, drawing me closer until I could feel the heat radiating from his body. "The truth this time."
My pulse raced beneath his touch. "Why do you care? I thought I was 'utterly uninteresting'?"
Something dark and hungry flashed in those green eyes. "You're quite interesting than I thought, Mrs. Lancaster." His grip tightened fractionally.
I was afraid that he would discover my secrete if we continue this talking.
"I have to go." I tried to step back, but his grip remained firm.
"Running away?" His voice carried a somewhat charm. Our gazes met.