Chapter 3: The Manipulator

Adrian’s Point Of View

The steady hum of my office filled the silence, broken only by the faint ticking of the clock on the far wall. Outside, the city stirred with life, but here, within these four walls, I was locked in thought. My chair creaked as I leaned back, fingers steepled under my chin, staring at the faint reflection of myself in the dark monitor.

Emma Carter.

Her response still echoed in my mind, crisp and defiant, though her voice held a strong uncertainty which made me believe I could crack her if I pushed harder "With all due respect, sir, I cannot marry you. You are my boss"

The corner of my lips curled upward, a wry smile forming despite myself. She actually thinks she is better than me? She thinks she could just walk away from the deal I’d laid on the table?

"Two years, No emotions, No intimacy" She had indirectly turned it down but she’d learn soon enough.

I’d offered her salvation, an escape from her desperate reality, any girl would jump on my lap at such opportunity but she...she’d rejected it without a second doubt. Not because she didn’t need it, as I could see the desperation in her eyes every fucking time she's stepped into this office today, Emma’s refusal had simply been about pride. And pride? Well, that could easily be broken for someone as desperate as she is.

The truth was, I had considered other women for this arrangement. Beautiful, more polished women who knew how to play the game. But they were all the same. Gold diggers. Sharks circling for a payout. I wasn’t about to bankroll some social climber’s dream lifestyle.

Emma was different. Naïve, desperate, and, most importantly, moldable. She was exactly the type of woman who would sign on the dotted line if the stakes were high enough. And make no mistake... I controlled the stakes.

A sharp buzz interrupted my thoughts. My phone screen lit up with a name that made my jaw tighten, Mother.

Sighing, I picked up the call. “What is it thus time mother?”

“Well, good morning to you too, Adrian,” came her clipped response.

I pinched the bridge of my nose, already regretting answering. “I’m busy, Mother. Make it quick.”

“I ran into Celia at the Salon yesterday,” she began, her tone laced with that familiar mixture of criticism and meddling that only she could pull off. “She mentioned it’s been ages since you both had seen each other. So, I took the liberty of setting up a dinner for the two of you this weekend, perhaps you could ask her to be your date to the company's anniversary after your dinner.”

“Cancel it,” I said flatly, not bothering to mask my irritation.

“Adrian!” she snapped. “You’re not getting any younger. Celia is a delightful woman from a top tier family, marriage to her would boast our family's financial stage, and it’s high time you settled down. I've... ”

“I already have a fiancée, Mother,” I cut her off, the words leaving my mouth before I’d fully thought them through.

The silence on the other end of the line was deafening. When she finally spoke, her voice was sharp, incredulous. “What did you just say? You are joking right?”

“You heard me, mother” I said smoothly, reclining further into my chair. “I’m engaged. In fact, you’ll meet her at the company’s anniversary gala next week. I’ll be making a major announcement.”

“You... Adrian, don’t you...”

I ended the call before she could launch into a tirade, tossing the phone onto my desk.

As the silence returned, I allowed myself a moment to process what I’d just done. What the hell was I thinking? Emma hadn’t even agreed to my proposal, and here I was, announcing it to my mother and by extension, the world that I had a fiancée. What if she stands by her decision not to give in?

I dragged a hand down my face, letting out a low groan.

But then again… Emma was more desperate than I was. All she needed was the right push, and she’d come around. She didn’t have a choice. Not really.

Pushing myself to my feet, I adjusted my tie and smoothed down my suit jacket. The air seemed lighter now, the faint scent of leather and cedar filling my senses as I stepped out of my office.

The moment I saw her, I knew I had her exactly where I wanted her.

Emma sat at her desk, her head bowed as she flipped through a stack of papers. She looked… frazzled, like someone who hadn’t slept well in weeks. Her chestnut hair was tied back in a loose ponytail, a few strands escaping to frame her pale face. She wore one of those modest office dresses she always favored, the kind that barely hinted at the hourglass figure beneath. And those glasses, nerdy and unassuming only added to the air of innocence that clung to her like a second skin.

Cute. Naïve. Vulnerable.

Perfect.

She looked up as I approached, her hazel eyes widening. Immediately, she stood, her chair scraping against the floor in her haste.

“Mr. Steele,” she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.

I stopped in front of her desk, letting the moment stretch. Her nervous energy was palpable, and I enjoyed watching her squirm under my gaze.

“Have you thought about my offer?” I asked, my voice calm, calculated.

Her lips parted, and for a moment, no sound came out. Then she shook her head, her hands fidgeting with the hem of her dress. “I… I can’t,” she said, her voice trembling. “I just… I can’t.”

A smile crept across my face, slow and deliberate. She thought she had a choice here. How amusing.

“well, I thought about it too and I think I have two options for you, Miss Carter,” I said, my tone soft but laced with steel. “Marry me… or get out of my fucking office.”

Her eyes widened, her breath hitching audibly.

I knew I had broken through that defense.