Helena Whitmore was never meant to be Adrian Cavendish’s wife. But when her world crumbles, he’s there—with an offer she can’t refuse. A marriage built on necessity. A deal written in ink. But Adrian doesn’t do anything without a reason. And from the moment she steps into his world, she realizes—this was never just business. Because Adrian has secrets. Secrets that make her pulse race and her stomach twist. And the most dangerous part? She’s not sure if she wants to run from him… or straight into his arms.
View MoreHelena's POVThe auction had already begun when Adrian led me inside, his hand gently resting on the small of my back.A mix of anxiety and curiosity churned in my stomach. Why was Adrian acting so kind, yet so distant at the same time?"Umm... thank you for what you did earlier," I said quickly, the words slipping out before I could stop them.Adrian glanced at me, his eyes sharp but warm, and let out a soft chuckle."There's no way I’d let anyone disrespect you," he said simply."Yeah, but still... I just wanted to say thank you," I replied, lowering my gaze.He didn’t say anything else. Just gave a small nod and pointed toward a row of empty seats.We sat down, and I looked around at the other guests as they took their places.“Welcome, ladies and gentlemen,” The auctioneer announced as he stepped onto the stage.“Tonight, we have some of the finest and most beautiful items up for bidding.”Then a line of women stepped onto the stage, each holding an item that was going to be auc
Helena's POV The soft clink of chinaware was the only sound filling the dining room. Adrian sits across from me, absentmindedly looking through his phone. He was always busy. Though he had been coming home more often, and we had dinner together most nights but he stayed distan and always quiet. “So, how's work?” I ask, trying to make talk. Great job, Helena. You’re really a natural at this, I think to myself, dripping with sarcasm. Adrian looks up from his phone, clearly surprised by my question. “Good,” he says simply before looking back down at the screen. Wow. He really knows how to keep a talk going. “"Could you at least put your phone down so you can eat?" I mumbled, setting my fork down. Adrian grinned, finally looking up from his screen. "You want attention, don’t you?" he joked, putting his phone on the table. I laughed, caught off guard by his question. "No," I said quickly,
Adrians POV“And you have a meeting with the Marcus brothers at 3 p.m. on Tuesday,” Lucas my secretary says, flipping through his tablet. “Also, Tragus Bank wants to set up a meeting.”I barely hear him. My focus drifts, my thoughts in a haze.“Sir?” Lucas’s voice cuts through, pulling me back. “Everything alright?”I blink, shaking off the distraction. “Yes, Lucas. That’ll be all.”He studies me for a second, like he wants to say more, but instead, he gives a curt nod and steps out, leaving me alone with the thoughts I can’t seem to silence.As soon as the door clicks shut, I exhale sharply, leaning back in my chair. My fingers press against my temples, but the dull ache in my skull doesn’t fade.I really need to get a grip. Just as I was about to start working, my mother walked in.“Well, well… seems you’re still alive since you’ve been ignoring my calls,” she scoffs, tossing her coat onto the sofa by the door.I sigh, already feeling a headache coming on. “What do you want, Gisell
Helena's POV "Okay, spill. What’s going on with you?" Eleanor asks, narrowing her eyes over the rim of her coffee cup. I frown. "Nothing. Why?" She scoffs. "Oh, please. You look like you haven’t slept in days, you called me saying you needed someone to talk to and you’ve been fidgeting with that napkin since you sat down. I know you girl, I bet you've been thinking about Adrian." I nearly knocked over my coffee. "Ellie!" She grins, unfazed. "Am I wrong?" I open my mouth to argue, but nothing comes out. Because yes, I have been thinking about Adrian. Too much and in ways I shouldn’t. Eleanor’s eyes widen in disbelief. "Oh my God. Something happened." I groan, dropping my head into my hands. "Nothing happened." "Bullshit." I sigh, knowing there’s no escaping this. I glance around the café, making sure no one is eavesdropping, then lean in slightly. "I… I touched myself." The words come out in a whisper, like saying them any louder might summon the devil himself.
(Adrian’s POV) Helena is going to ruin me, and the worst part? She has no idea. I’ve been walking a tightrope, barely keeping myself in check. During our trip, I was a breath away from losing control, wanting to pull the car over and fuck her right then and there. At the photoshoot, her shyness was infuriatingly sweet, making me want to tease her just to see her blush. Then there was the interview, where she slipped her hand over mine like it belonged there, like this wasn’t all for show. But the beach? Damn, the beach almost broke me. For a few reckless minutes, it was just the two of us outside the crashing waves. She laughed, teasing me, soaking wet and radiant, and I let myself forget, let myself play along. Then she was under me. Soft, breathless, and wide-eyed. Her lips parted, her body trembling, and not from the cold. I could feel it, her hesitation, her want. She would have let me kiss her. Would have let me ruin her right there in the sand. And fuck, I wanted to. But
Helena POV The ocean shimmered under the moonlight, waves kissing the shore as Adrian and I walked side by side, our footsteps sinking into the cool, damp sand. The salty breeze curled around us, but the silence between us was warmer than it had ever been. I stole a glance at him. He was staring straight ahead, hands tucked into the pockets of his sweatpants, his expression unreadable. “You know,” I said, breaking the quiet, “I honestly thought your entire wardrobe was just suits and dress shirts. Seeing you in a T-shirt is… unexpected.” Adrian let out a low laugh. Something about it caught me off guard. I had never seen him like this. Relaxed. Almost… human. He glanced at me, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Let me guess, you also thought I was a complete asshole?” I smirked. “Oh, no. That’s not a thought. That’s a fact.” Adrian’s gaze softened, a rare warmth flickering in his eyes. He had to know what he was doing to me, the way my breath hitched, the way my body be
(Helena’s POV) The interview is set up in the grand living room of the estate, soft lighting making everything look warm and romantic. But the atmosphere between Adrian and me? Ice-cold. The reporter, a polished woman in her mid-40s, smiles at us as the cameras roll. “Mr. and Mrs. Cavendish, thank you for taking the time to do this. Everyone is fascinated by your whirlwind romance.” I barely keep from scoffing. Whirlwind romance? More like a controlled PR stunt. But Adrian, the devil himself, leans back against the couch, arm draped casually behind me like it belongs there. “Of course,” he says smoothly, giving my shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Helena and I are happy to share our story.” I shoot him a look. Happy to share? Since when? The reporter smiles. “So, let’s start from the beginning. How did you two fall in love?” Before I can even open my mouth, Adrian is already answering. “It was unexpected,” he says, glancing at me with what looks like adoration. “One moment, she
Helena’s POV "Let me know if you need anything else, ma’am," Ethan said as he stepped aside, allowing me to enter the room. "Please… Helena will do," I corrected, offering a small smile. He nodded. "Helena, then." As I stepped further inside, I took in the space. It was warm, inviting—not at all what I expected from Adrian’s vacation home. The king-sized bed was covered in crisp white sheets, the scent of fresh linen lingering in the air. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the ocean, sunlight spilling into the room in golden streaks. "Everything has been prepared to your liking," Ethan added, his tone professional. "Under the strict instructions of Mr. Cavendish." I snorted, trailing my fingers over the edge of the bed. "I bet you do this often. Must be exhausting, setting up for all the women he brings here." Ethan hesitated, then shook his head. "On the contrary, madam. You’re the first woman he’s ever brought here." I froze. Heat crept up my neck, my fingers twitc
Helena's POV I frowned at Adrian, arms crossed. “What do you mean, we’re going on a trip?” He exhaled, already looking impatient. “Pack your things. We leave in an hour.” I narrowed my eyes. “To where?” Adrian crossed his arms, smirking like he enjoyed pushing my buttons. “Why don’t you ever just do what you’re told?” “Oh, I’m sorry, mister control freak,” I shot back, mirroring his stance. “Either you tell me where we’re going, or I’m not going anywhere.” His smirk didn’t waver. If anything, it deepened. “Fine. We’re going to my private island.” I blinked. “I’m sorry, what?” “Private island. It’s in the Hamptons.” I stared at him, waiting for an actual explanation. He sighed, rubbing his temple like I was exhausting him. “After the little stunt you pulled with Giselle and the media’s relentless scrutiny of our marriage, I hired a PR team to fix things. They came up with the idea of a romantic getaway.” I scoffed, crossing my arms tighter. “First of all, the inci
(Helena’s POV)The first thing I learned about widowhood was that grief wasn’t the worst part. No one really warns you about the shame, about how quickly people stop looking you in the eye when they whisper and gossip about your dead husband, about how fast friends become strangers when your husband's name is no longer one to be respected but pitied. I stood in front of the grand doors of the Langley Club, an establishment I had entered a hundred times as Mrs. Daniel Whitmore. But today, I was just Helena, and that meant nothing. The doorman—Harris, a man who had once bowed and greeted me warmly—blocked my entrance. "I'm sorry, ma’am, but your membership has been revoked." His voice was neutral like he had rehearsed beforehand. I blinked in surprise. “I’m sure that’s a mistake, let me speak to the manager.” “It isn’t. Your fees haven’t been paid for three months and I'm sorry but I'm not allowed to let you in. Your account has been closed.” A slow, creeping flush burned ...
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