Chapter 3 - THE DRY CLOTHESThe ride down in the private elevator was silent, save for the rhythmic dripping of water from my navy dress onto the brass floor.
Adrian held me close against his chest until we reached the subterranean parking garage, where his dark, armored Maybach was idling. His personal driver, Marcus, immediately opened the rear door, his eyes widening in shock when he saw my drenched hair and Adrian’s ruined suit.
“Sir? What happened?” Marcus asked.
“Drive us home, Marcus,” Adrian ordered calmly, stepping into the back seat with me. “And call my legal team. Tell Arthur I need an emergency injunction filed against Sterling Capital by dawn.”
“Understood, sir.”
Inside the warm, leather-scented cabin of the Maybach, Adrian pulled a soft wool blanket from the side cabinet and wrapped it around my shoulders over his wet suit jacket. He sat beside me, taking my shivering hands into his large, warm palms, rubbing them gently to restore my circulation.
I stared down at our hands. His knuckles were tight, his wedding ring gleaming under the soft cabin lights.
“Why did you do that?” I asked softly, my voice trembling.
Adrian looked at me, his brow furrowing slightly. “What do you mean?”
“The endowment,” I whispered, looking up into his dark eyes. “You threatened to pull forty million dollars from a children’s hospital wing over a spilled pool.”
Adrian’s jaw tightened. “I threatened Miles Rowan because he allowed a woman to assault my wife on his property while forty people laughed.”
“I’m just... a polished marriage, remember?” The words slipped out of my mouth before I could stop them. The pain of what he had said in the elevator earlier tonight was still stinging beneath the cold water.
Adrian went completely still.
He looked at me for a long, heavy moment. The ruthless, strategic billionaire vanished, leaving behind just the man I had married three years ago in a quiet courthouse.
“Is that what you think?” Adrian asked softly.
“It’s what you said, Adrian,” I replied, wiping a tear from my eye before it could blend with the pool water on my cheek. “You said a polished marriage makes people comfortable. You didn't say you loved me. You didn't say you needed me. You said I was good for business.”
Adrian closed his eyes, letting out a long, heavy breath. He reached out, his long fingers gently cupping the back of my neck, pulling my forehead forward until it rested against his.
“I am an idiot, Maya,” he murmured, his voice rough with an emotion I hadn't heard in him for years. “I spend all day dealing with sharks, snakes, and men who want to tear down everything I build. I forgot how to speak to the only person in this world who actually cares about me.”
He pulled back slightly, looking straight into my eyes with intense, absolute sincerity.
“You are not a prop, Maya,” Adrian said, his voice trembling slightly. “You are the only reason I come home at night. When I saw you fall into that water... when I heard those people laughing at you... I wanted to burn this city to the ground.”
My heart did a strange, fluttering leap inside my chest.
The Maybach pulled into the private underground entrance of our Tribeca penthouse building. Marcus opened the door.
Adrian stepped out, reached back in, and picked me up in his arms once more, carrying me through the private elevator doors and straight up to our penthouse.
He carried me into the master bathroom, setting me down gently on the heated marble floor beside the deep soaking tub. He reached over, turned on the gold faucets, and filled the tub with steaming, scented water.
Then, without saying a word, the billionaire knelt beside me on the floor, unzipped the wet navy dress from my back, and helped me step out of the ruined fabric.
He wrapped a thick white plush robe around me, brought a warm towel to dry my hair, and sat on the edge of the tub while I sank into the hot water.
May you like
“Adrian,” I whispered, leaning my head against the porcelain edge.
“I’m right here, Maya,” he said, taking my hand. “And I’m not going anywhere.”
Related Stories
