Elena's POV:
Powerful-looking men in tailored suits, and women in shiny, glamorous gowns all move around the room with purpose.
The arrangement of the hall is different too. Polished and precise.
Adrian walks beside me, one hand casually in his pocket, and the other on my hip, as he guides me further into the room.
I don't show it, or at least I hope I don't, but anytime he holds me like this, close to him, or touches me like this, my whole body heats.
I become fully aware of his presence. His smell. Every single detail about him.
And he walks with a type of confidence and composure I've never seen in any other man before. Like he doesn't have a care in the world. Like he's untouchable.
People greet him as we pass. But he only accords them with a small nod.
As a server passes, he stops him, then faces me, with a cocked brow.
"Wine?"
"Uhh…yes. Thank you," I answer
He nods, then turns and takes a glass out of the tray and hands it to me, before taking one for himself.
He gulps his down in a go, while I sip on mine.
"Mr. Moretti!" someone calls from the front. It's an older man that looks to be in his 50's. There's an older woman by his side. They lock arms together, smiling in our direction.
Adrian leads us to them. "Mr. Castillo. I didn't expect to see you here." He says as he reaches them, bringing out a hand to the man.
It's the first person he's accorded with a little more respect since I've been here.
"Ohh, son. I wouldn't be here if it weren't for Julia here," he gestures to the woman beside him. Probably his wife. "Who pressured me. She said it'd be good and it'll help us meet new investors for the business," he laughs heartily.
"And you know she's never wrong," he gives the woman a small smile.
"Of course," Adrian's lips curl slightly. "Mrs. Julia. It's good to see you."
"And you too, son. It's been a while." Her eyes shift to me. "And who's the pretty lady?" She asks with raised brows.
I crack a small, awkward smile under her stare.
"This is Elena," Adrian turns to me. "My wife."
I stare up at him, warmth spreading to my cheeks. Anytime he introduces me as his wife, or just calls me the name in general, it always seems to warm me.
I know sometimes he says it possessingly, but other times, it just feels like he's accepting me. That he's acknowledging me as someone that's by his side. Or perhaps even flaunting me off. But I can never know for real.
The older woman slaps him on the shoulder suddenly, with a frown on her face.
"You got married and didn't see it fit to invite us, or at least inform us? That's not like you, Adrian."
"Ohh, it is exactly like him," the older man grins at his wife. "He's always been an asshole, this one." He points a finger at Adrian.
Adrian exhales softly by my side. "It was… kind of a rush. It was just a small wedding." His lips curl slightly.
"Hmph," the woman huffs, her attention sliding back to me.
"Your dress looks beautiful, dear," she smiles at me, and her smile seems so genuine I can't help but smile back.
"Thank you," I answer nervously. "And you look gorgeous yourself. This color really suits you.….."
We exchange a bit of conversation before heading on. They're nice. Really nice. And I can't help but wonder how they are associated with Adrian. We all know he's not…very nice.
"Who are they?" I ask.
"Long-time business partners," he pauses for a second. "Turned… friends?" He cocks his head as if weighing his answer.
"Friends?"
"Something like that."
"Mm," I nod. "They're all really nice people though. It's a shame they're 'friends' with someone like you who's just…" I trail off.
His hand twitches on my hip.
Good. I got him.
"Just what?" I can hear the slight annoyance in his tone, and I stifle a smile.
"Nothing. Just you, I guess," I shrug my shoulders.
His eyes turn into slits, searing me down, but I act like I can't see him looking at me. Like I don't feel his gaze burning my skin. Out of sight, out of mind, or whatever they say.
Another server passes, and he grabs another glass from the tray, downing the whole thing down, and placing it back. I'm still on my first glass.
He turns, and comes to stand in front of me, his hands sliding around my back, to my other hip.
"I have to speak to someone," he says.
"Ohh," I swallow. "Okay."
It's time for serious business. All the networking shit and other stuff that happens at a summit, I guess.
"I'll just talk to a few people and be back. So don't wander off anywhere. I'll be watching you," he narrows his gaze slightly.
"Okay, daddy."
His eyes darken instantly as he draws in a sharp breath. And I realize he may have misunderstood what I meant by "daddy."
Oh, shit.
I lower my gaze, heat creeping up to my cheeks.
"I won't go too far," I say now.
He ticks his jaw, as he studies me for some seconds. Then he nods his head slowly, releasing a grumbled noise from his chest.
"Don't drink too much," he finally says, walking away from me.
I let out a deep sigh. God, I really need to watch what I say around this man.
But then again, he's to blame for having a dirty mind. I didn't mean it like that at all.
I feel my cheeks heat up again. Tipping my head back, I down my wine in a go. Then I head for the bar for more. I said I won't get drunk. I definitely won't.
I watch him from where I stand, with another glass of something stronger in my hand.
He's speaking to a group near the center of the hall, the lights catching on his suit and making him look even more intimidating. His expression is serious, composed. And out of everyone in the group, he's the only one that catches my eye. The only one that stands out.
Everyone around him is quiet, listening to him speak. There's something weirdly attractive about seeing him like this. Confident, respected, fully in his element.
I bring my wine to my lips and take a small sip. Eyes still on him.
For a brief second, his eyes slide to mine as he speaks. His gaze is intense as it slides over my body, head to toe. That same darkness I saw in his eyes before, reappears again.
I don't know if it's the wine in my system, which I don't think it is, because I've barely had more than two glasses, but those blue eyes scream hunger.
The type of hunger that wants to devour. Devour me.
He snaps his gaze back to the people in front of him, and continues speaking normally after leaving me almost breathless and all warm inside.
I hate his intense stares because of how my body always chooses to react to it, but I love them because of how they make me feel inside.
If you know, you know.
I finish my second glass and order for a third. As I'm about to bring it to my lips, a text enters my phone.
I take it out from my purse and study the screen.
Adrian:
"Quit drinking."
My lips curl up unconsciously, and I quickly morph my face back. He might be watching me.
You:
"Why?"
His reply comes quick.
Adrian:
"You'll get drunk."
You:
"And?"
The three dots pop up, and disappear a few times.
Adrian:
"Elena."
You:
"What?"
Adrian:
"Put the glass down."
You:
"No."
Adrian:
"Now."
You:
"I don't want to."
God, where is all this stubbornness coming from? But I'm enjoying it.
I sneak a look at him. He's glaring at his phone, jaw tight.
I stifle a laugh. I like when he's angry. He just gets all the more attractive.
But when I think about it again, I don't think this stubbornness would do me any good. I should stop now. If he really gets angry, there's no going back. I've had my fun.
"Let me go to the restroom, then," I type on the screen and send.
A second passes. Five seconds. Ten. A minute.
You:
"??"
Adrian:
"3 minutes. Be back in 3 before I come find you myself."
I roll my eyes at the message. All these dramatics for what? Relax. It's just the restroom. And as far as I know, no lady spends only three minutes in the restroom.
You:
"Whatever you say, sir."
I get up and head for the restroom, smiling to myself. I feel so accomplished right now.
I slip out of the hall quietly, weaving through the less crowded corridor until I find the women's room.
It's silent, cool, the faint scent of perfumes linger. Scents of those who were in before me.
I wash my hands, smooth a finger under my eye to fix a tiny smudge of mascara, then reapply my lipstick.
The thought of Adrian probably fuming inside, waiting for me to come out makes me smile. So widely. And I don't know why.
I smooth my dress and take one last look at myself in the mirror before stepping back into the hallway.
Immediately I open the door, I bump into something hard. Or someone.
Strong arms wrap around my waist, steadying me.
At first, I think it's Adrian…but that cologne…it's not his. I know what he smells like, and it's definitely not this.
I lift my head slowly to see who it is.
My brows shoot up immediately, panic rising inside me as my whole body freezes.
Marco!.