“You’re kidding, right?” I stared at Adrian, arms crossed as he leaned casually against the kitchen counter, a small, infuriating smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.“I’m not,” he replied smoothly, holding up two tickets like they were some kind of peace offering. “It’s already booked. We’re leaving tomorrow morning.”I narrowed my eyes, refusing to make this easy for him. “And you decided this all on your own?”“It’s part of our public image,” he said, shrugging like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “People expect us to do couple-y things, Mia. We’re giving them what they want.”“Couple-y things?” I repeated, my tone dripping with sarcasm. “Like getting on a plane with the man who just told his friend our marriage means nothing?”His smirk faded, replaced by something that almost looked like regret. “I’m trying to make it up to you,” he said quietly.“Oh, by taking me on a romantic getaway? How thoughtful.” My voice was sharp, but my chest tightened at the look in his
"You’ve been avoiding me," Adrian said, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down my spine.I froze mid-step in the hallway, gripping my phone tighter. I hadn’t even heard him come up behind me. Turning slowly, I met his eyes—gray, stormy, and piercing."I’m not avoiding you," I lied, though the way my gaze flicked to the floor probably gave me away.Adrian crossed his arms, leaning casually against the wall, though his posture betrayed a tension simmering beneath the surface. "Could’ve fooled me. You’ve barely looked at me since the plane landed.""I’ve been busy, or maybe I’ve had enough of your charming personality for one lifetime."The corner of his mouth twitched, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. "You know, Mia, for someone who claims to be immune to me, you sure seem to think about me a lot."My breath hitched. He wasn’t wrong, and that infuriated me. The villa, the kiss, the unspoken tension—it had all left a mark I couldn’t shake, no matter how hard I tried." I said,
"I’m tired of you, Mia. Just leave." Adrian’s voice echoed through the room, cold and detached. His gray eyes, usually brimming with unspoken emotion, now held nothing but disdain. "What?" I whispered, my voice barely audible. "I don’t want to see you anymore," he said, crossing his arms. "You’re exhausting. Just leave and stop pretending like this arrangement ever meant anything." Before I could respond, another voice joined the fray, sharp and venomous. "You heard him! Leave my son alone!" Adrian’s mother appeared out of nowhere, her face twisted in anger. She pointed a perfectly manicured finger at me, her lips curling in disgust. "Do you really think you belong here? You’re nothing but a pathetic little nobody clinging to something you don’t deserve," she spat. Her words stung like a slap, but before I could defend myself, laughter erupted , harsh and mocking, filling the space around me. I turned to see my colleagues—juniors, superiors, even the interns—all staring at
“Are you nervous?” Claire leaned casually against my desk, her perfectly manicured nails tapping on the wood.“Nervous?” I repeated, my voice a pitch higher than usual. I forced a laugh and waved her off. “About dinner? Of course not. Why would I be?”Claire smirked, crossing her arms. “Because you’ve been checking the time every five minutes since you got Adrian’s text.”“I’m not—” I glanced at the clock again, catching myself mid-denial. My cheeks flushed as I quickly busied myself with straightening a stack of papers. “It’s just… I don’t know what this is about.”Claire tilted her head, her curiosity piqued. “Isn’t it obvious? The man’s trying to get under your skin.”I snorted. “He doesn’t need to try; he’s already there.”“Exactly,” she said triumphantly. “And let me guess—he’s been doing that hot-and-cold thing, hasn’t he? Acting all intense one moment and distant the next?”I froze, startled by how accurately she had described him. “Maybe,” I muttered, avoiding her gaze.Claire
“Adrian, this is ridiculous,” I muttered, shifting uncomfortably in the passenger seat of his sleek black car. “You can’t just spring things on me like this!” “Relax, Mia,” Adrian said, his tone maddeningly calm. He adjusted his tie without even glancing at me. “You’ll survive. Maybe even enjoy yourself.” “Highly unlikely,” I shot back, folding my arms across my chest. “You haven’t even told me where we’re going.” “You’ll see.” His lips curved into that infuriating smirk he seemed to save exclusively for moments when he was deliberately trying to get under my skin. “You can’t just drag me out of the house, force me into a dress, and then not tell me what’s going on,” I said, glaring at him. Adrian glanced at me briefly, his smirk widening. “You’re cute when you’re mad, you know that?” I rolled my eyes, muttering under my breath, “You’re impossible.” Moments later, the car came to a stop in front of an opulent building with towering columns and sparkling chandeliers visible thro
“You call this paradise?” I grumbled, stepping out of the car and squinting up at the grand, sunlit entrance of Emerald Cove Resort. Palm trees swayed in the breeze, their shadows dancing over the cobblestone driveway.Adrian smirked as he handed the keys to the valet. “You’re welcome.”“For what?” I shot back, adjusting my sunglasses. “Kidnapping me under the guise of charity?”“Kidnapping implies you didn’t want to come,” he said, brushing past me to retrieve our bags from the trunk. “And judging by that little smile you’re trying to hide, I think you’re secretly excited.”I rolled my eyes but couldn’t suppress a tiny smile. He had a way of pushing my buttons and somehow making me enjoy it.---The lobby was a vision of luxury. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a breathtaking view of the turquoise ocean, and the scent of fresh orchids lingered in the air. Guests lounged on plush sofas, sipping cocktails as they chatted.As we approached the check-in desk, the concierge greeted us wit
“Someone’s watching us,” Adrian muttered, his voice low but firm. His sharp gaze darted between the innocuous rose on the table and the view beyond the balcony.“Watching me,” I corrected, pacing near the couch. “And maybe next time they could skip the theatrics. A simple note would’ve sufficed.”“This isn’t a joke, Mia,” he snapped, his tone cutting. “Whoever left that rose wants to get inside your head.”“Well, congratulations to them—it’s working,” I shot back, rubbing my arms. The unease clung to me like a second skin, and I hated how much it showed.“You’re sure you don’t know who sent it?” he asked for the third time, his voice sharper than before.“For the last time, no,” I replied, exasperated. “Why would anyone leave me a rose? You’re the one with an endless parade of admirers, remember?”He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I really don’t like the fact that someone's watching us.”I stood, brushing past him toward the balcony. “Well, there’s nothing we can do about it n
The warm scent of sea breeze filled the air as I stood on the balcony, staring out at the endless ocean. It was our last day at the resort, and the weight of that night still clung to me like a stubborn shadow.Adrian hadn’t said a word about what happened between us. He acted like it was just another night—another transaction in this twisted game we were playing.I hated that it hurt.“Enjoying the view?” Adrian’s voice broke through my thoughts.I turned to see him standing in the doorway, looking effortlessly put together in a crisp white shirt and tailored pants. He was holding two cups of coffee.“Depends on which view you’re talking about,” I shot back, crossing my arms.His mouth twitched, almost like he wanted to smile, but he didn’t. Instead, he handed me a cup. “Thought you could use this.”“Thanks.” I took the cup, letting the warmth seep into my fingers. “Is this your way of making up for being insufferable?”He arched a brow. “If I apologized every time you thought I was
Adrian stepped toward the dock and gestured to the rowboat. “Shall we?”I hesitated, eyeing the boat skeptically. “You expect me to get in that thing? Do I look like someone who knows how to row?”He smirked, already untying the rope. “You won’t have to. I’ll do the hard part. You just sit back and enjoy.”I crossed my arms, raising an eyebrow. “You’re really trying to sell this, aren’t you?”“Come on, Mia,” he said, holding a hand out to me. “Where’s your sense of adventure?”I couldn’t resist the challenge in his tone. With a resigned sigh, I took his hand and let him help me into the boat. It rocked slightly as I settled onto the bench, and I shot Adrian a glare.“If this thing tips, I’m blaming you,” I said, gripping the edge of the boat for dear life.“Noted,” he replied, climbing in after me with practiced ease. “Although, if you end up in the water, it’ll be your fault for not trusting my impeccable boating skills.”“Oh, impeccable, huh?” I shot back. “Let me guess, you’re secr
The house was eerily quiet after Max left. It was like someone had flipped a switch, silencing the tornado of energy that had been spinning through the rooms for the past two days. I stood in the living room, surveying the wreckage. Pillows were strewn across the floor, one of Max’s toy cars was stuck under the couch, and there was a faint trace of whipped cream on the coffee table that neither of us had bothered to clean up.Adrian walked in, holding two glasses of water. “It’s almost too quiet now, isn’t it?”I accepted the glass he handed me and took a sip. “Yeah, I feel like I should be hearing a six-year-old yelling about superheroes or pancakes.”Adrian chuckled, sitting down on the couch. He looked relaxed, but there was a certain heaviness to his expression that hadn’t been there earlier.“Did he tire you out that much?” I teased, plopping down next to him.“Not just him,” Adrian replied, resting his head against the back of the couch. “Parenting—even the fake kind—is exhausti
It was well past Max’s bedtime when the house finally quieted. After a long day of non-stop energy, the kid had collapsed in the guest bedroom, clutching his toy robot like it was the most precious thing in the world.Adrian and I stood in the hallway outside his room, listening to his soft snores.“Well,” I said, keeping my voice low. “That was...an experience.”Adrian rubbed the back of his neck, looking as if he’d just finished running a marathon. “I don’t know how parents do this every day.”“Admit it, you had fun,” I teased.He shot me a look, but there was no real heat behind it. “Define ‘fun.’”“Oh, come on. You were laughing at the park. You helped him build a tower out of those blocks at the toy store. And don’t think I didn’t see you trying to beat his high score on that arcade game.”Adrian’s lips twitched, but he didn’t respond.I leaned closer, smirking. “You’re a softie, aren’t you?”“Hardly,” he said, though the faint pink creeping up his neck betrayed him.Shaking my h
The next morning, I woke up to the unmistakable sound of pots clanging in the kitchen. Groaning, I checked the time—6:12 a.m. Too early for anything except coffee.As I stumbled out of the bedroom, I nearly tripped over a small robot toy parked in the hallway. Max’s backpack was propped up against the wall, and a trail of crayons led straight to the kitchen like breadcrumbs.When I reached the kitchen, the scene nearly stopped me in my tracks.Max stood on a stool, wearing one of Adrian’s button-up shirts as an oversized apron, flour smudged on his cheeks. Adrian was next to him, looking like he’d aged ten years overnight. His usual crisp morning appearance was replaced with a wrinkled t-shirt and dark circles under his eyes.“Good morning,” I said cautiously, stepping inside. “What’s going on here?”Max turned to me with a bright smile. “We’re making pancakes!”“We are not making pancakes,” Adrian corrected, his voice sharp. “We are ruining my kitchen.”“I’m helping!” Max protested,
“You’re not answering the door?” Adrian asked, his eyes flicking toward the sharp knock echoing through the mansion.“It’s your house,” I replied, lazily sipping my coffee. “Could be one of your mysterious business associates.”Adrian sighed, setting down his tablet. “Or a solicitor. Last time someone showed up unannounced, it was a guy trying to sell me a custom mailbox shaped like a yacht.”“Well, don’t keep them waiting. Could be your next yacht mailbox,” I teased, smirking.Rolling his eyes, Adrian pushed back his chair and walked to the door. “If it’s something ridiculous, you’re dealing with it next time,” he muttered under his breath.The moment he opened the door, a whirlwind of energy burst into the room in the form of a petite woman with sharp features, silver-streaked hair, and an air of authority that made me sit up straighter.“Adrian, darling, I need your help,” the woman announced, stepping inside as though she owned the place.“Eleanor,” Adrian said warily, his posture
It started with a search for coffee.I was wandering Adrian’s massive mansion one morning, wearing one of his oversized shirts and a pair of fuzzy socks, when I found myself hopelessly lost.“This place is ridiculous,” I muttered, peering into yet another empty room. “Who even needs this many doors?”Adrian had mentioned that the kitchen was “just down the hall,” but the hallways in his house seemed to stretch on forever. Just as I was about to give up and text him for help, I noticed something odd about one of the walls.It wasn’t a wall at all. It was a door—one cleverly disguised to blend in with the wood-paneled hallway.“What’s this?” I murmured, my curiosity immediately piqued.I pushed the door open and stepped inside, expecting to find a storage closet or maybe a boring office. Instead, I found a room that took my breath away.---The space was bathed in soft, natural light filtering through skylights. The walls were lined with shelves crammed with sketchbooks, canvases, and j
Adrian didn’t know what hit him when I proposed a spontaneous road trip.“A road trip?” he repeated, his brow furrowed as he glanced at the neatly packed duffel bags sitting by the door. “Mia, you’re aware we’re not teenagers anymore, right?”“Exactly why we should do it!” I said, looping my arm through his and giving him my best puppy-dog eyes. “It’s not like we have meetings to attend or deadlines to meet this weekend. Think of it as a mini getaway. Just you, me, and the open road.”He crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe with a skeptical expression. “And let me guess—you already have an itinerary planned out?”“Of course,” I said, holding up my phone. “I mapped out all the best stops. Scenic views, quirky diners, maybe even a haunted inn.”“A haunted inn?” His brow shot up. “Why does it feel like I’m walking into one of your chaotic schemes again?”“Because you are,” I replied cheerfully, grabbing his hand. “Now come on, Mr. Grumpy. Live a little.”He sighed, pinching th
I was sprawled on the couch, scrolling through social media when inspiration struck. A video of a couple recreating the famous dance scene from The Notebook caught my eye. They twirled and laughed under fairy lights, the kind of perfection that made hopeless romantics sigh.“This is so cute,” I muttered to myself, tapping on the hashtag #CoupleGoalsChallenge and diving into a rabbit hole of clips. Each video featured couples doing things that ranged from heartwarming to outright silly—romantic dances, baking disasters, matching outfits, and even lip-syncing battles.The idea hit me like a bolt of lightning. I was already grinning by the time Adrian walked into the living room, holding a steaming mug of coffee.“What are you plotting now?” he asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow as he caught sight of my overly enthusiastic expression.“I’m not plotting. I’m... brainstorming,” I said, tucking my phone behind me like it wasn’t filled with ideas that would probably make him regret being in
“I don’t know about you,” Adrian said, his voice warm and teasing as he leaned against the kitchen counter, “but I think we need to set some ground rules.”“Ground rules?” I asked, raising an eyebrow as I poured myself a cup of coffee. “Is this your way of saying you’re already regretting this?”His lips curved into a smirk, but there was no mistaking the softness in his gaze. “No, Mia. I’m saying if we’re going to do this—really do this—I don’t want to screw it up.”I set my mug down and turned to face him, crossing my arms over my chest. “Okay, Mr. Rule Maker. Let’s hear it. What are these so-called ground rules?”Adrian pushed off the counter and took a step closer, his presence commanding as always. But this time, there was a gentleness to his movements, a vulnerability that made my heart skip a beat. “Rule number one,” he began, his voice low and serious. “We don’t keep secrets. If something’s bothering you, you tell me. No more guessing games.”I raised an eyebrow, leaning again