CHAPTER 11: Over The Edge

NIRVANA'S POV

I lay flat on my back and stared up at the dark ceiling of my bedroom. Sleep absolutely refused to come to me tonight. Every single time I closed my eyes, the heavy and overwhelming presence of Adrian pinning me against the kitchen counter returned to my mind.

I felt the intense heat of his breath washing over my jawline. I felt his large hands gripping my bare thighs with absolute possession. He had been so incredibly close to completely losing his control.

I heard the loud bang of the front door closing hours ago. I knew he left the house. I knew he was regretting what almost happened between us in the dark. But I did not regret a single second of it. I would not.

My mind forcefully shifted to the stain on Ronan's shirt. It was blood. I was definitely sure of it. I needed to stop thinking about my brother and his secrets. I needed to distract myself from the terrifying reality creeping into my life. Because the more I thought about it, the more it was bound to drive me crazy.

I allowed my mind to wander straight back to then. I focused entirely on how I felt when Adrian's stubble rubbed against the sensitive skin of my neck.

A heavy and familiar heat pooled low in my stomach by just thinking about it. The dull ache between my legs grew intense and demanding. My breathing hitched loudly in the quiet room. It felt like I could feel his hand on me again. My tits became heavy, aching as I imagined his hand cupping them.

I slid my right hand under the thick covers and moved it slowly down my bare stomach. I parted my thighs and pressed my fingers directly against my wet core. I stroked myself, imagining the heavy weight of Adrian pressing down on my body. I rubbed my clitoris, increasing the pressure and the speed until my hips began to buck off the soft mattress. A soft and breathy moan escaped my lips as the orgasm ripped violently through my body, leaving me exhausted and panting in the dark.

I sat at the long dining table the next morning. I pushed the scrambled eggs around my porcelain plate with my silver fork. Adrian had not come downstairs for breakfast. I strongly suspected he did not come back to the house at all last night.

Ronan sat directly across from me. He was drinking his black coffee and scrolling through his digital tablet. He wore a fresh grey suit and a perfectly tied silk tie, looking completely unbothered by what happened last night. And it annoyed me.

I dropped my fork onto the plate and the loud clatter broke the silence in the room. I wanted it to.

"What is going on with you, Ronan? Why are you sitting there as if nothing has happened?”, I lashed out. “I saw the blood on your shirt last night. You've been acting weird since I came back, what is going on?"

Ronan did not even look up from the glowing screen of his phone. He only took another slow sip of his coffee. "It is just a firm business, Nirvana. We closed a large commercial acquisition yesterday afternoon. That's why I've been staying away."

The fact that he thought me stupid enough to just throw away my assumptions without taking a glance at me was making me seriously mad.

"And the blood?" I pressed him, keeping my voice steady so the anger would not show. "Did you close a real estate deal by bleeding on someone?"

Ronan finally looked up from his tablet.

"I visited a construction site for a new commercial property. A piece of metal fell and injured a construction worker. I helped him up off the ground. It was an accident. You are overthinking this whole situation." His facial expression was entirely blank and devoid of any emotion when he looked at me.

I stared directly into his eyes. The lie was incredibly smooth. It was a perfectly practiced excuse that I could not argue with even though I didn't believe it.

I felt an ache in my chest. Ronan never lied to me. He had no reason to, at least then. Our father built his entire real estate empire on clean corporate contracts. There was absolutely no blood in commercial real estate. Ronan was deeply involved in something dark and he was lying straight to my face without a single ounce of hesitation. I realized then that I was entirely alone in a house of liars. I could not trust the man who brought me to New York.

I finished my breakfast in complete silence and left the house. I walked onto the university campus with a very heavy chest. I entered the large humanities building and took my seat right in the middle of the lecture hall.

Sienna sat in the very front row as usual. She was already chatting with her friends when I entered. I couldn't help but stare at her. She flipped her bright blonde hair over her shoulder and laughed loudly, but somehow with that elegance surrounding her. She made sure everyone in the immediate vicinity noticed her presence. And we did. I saw a few guys staring at her too.

I looked away when Adrian walked into the room precisely on the hour. He was wearing a fitted black dress shirt with the sleeves up to his wrist, perfectly concealing his tattoos. He did not look at me when he entered. He walked straight to the podium and turned the digital projector on.

An image of a dark Renaissance painting appeared on the large screen behind him. It showed a chaotic scene of figures fighting in a dimly lit courtyard.

"Artemisia Gentileschi," Adrian announced to the quiet room. "This piece was highly controversial during the time of its creation. What is the primary emotional driver in this specific composition?"

Sienna raised her hand high and spoke without waiting to be officially called on. "It is a depiction of classic justice," Sienna said confidently. "The lighting focuses entirely on the central figure delivering the final and fatal blow. It shows the ultimate triumph of good over evil. The artist wanted to show the absolute moral superiority of the protagonist."

Sienna looked around the room, clearly expecting Adrian to shower her with the usual praise.

I raised my hand into the air. I did not wait for Adrian to acknowledge me either.

"I would like to disagree," I said. My voice was loud and incredibly steady in the quiet hall.

Sienna snapped her head around to look at me, alongside a few more students. Her face flushed a deep red color. She must not be used to anyone in disagreement with her opinions. Sorry to burst her bubbles.

I kept my eyes entirely focused on the dark painting on the screen, intentionally not looking at Adrian. "There is absolutely no justice in this piece. The lighting does not highlight moral superiority. It highlights pure and unadulterated vengeance. Look at the specific grip the protagonist has on the weapon. Look at the sheer physical effort and tension in her shoulders. She is not delivering fair justice. She is purposely making the victim suffer. The artist painted this exact scene from a place of deep personal trauma and raw rage. Calling it a textbook example of good over evil completely strips away the raw violence the artist intended to portray to the audience."

The entire lecture hall went completely silent. Sienna opened her mouth to argue back, but no words came out. She slouched back into her wooden chair, utterly humiliated in front of the entire class.

I finally moved my gaze away from the projector screen and looked directly at Adrian.

He was staring right at me. He did not attempt to mask his reaction from the class. The indifferent and cold professor facade cracked right down the middle. He gave me a slow and deliberate nod, forced to acknowledge my academic brilliance in front of everyone.

"Miss Hale is actually correct," Adrian said. His voice was low and incredibly rough.

The heavy sexual tension from our dark kitchen encounter transferred directly into the open space between us. I could feel the intense heat radiating across the room. My heart pounded heavily against my ribs. He remembered exactly how my skin tasted. I saw the vivid memory flashing right in his dark eyes.

The loud campus bell rang, completely shattering the heavy silence in the room. The students immediately started packing their bags and shuffling toward the exit doors.

I grabbed my notebook and stood up from my desk.

"Miss Hale," Adrian’s voice cut sharply through the noise of the departing students. "Stay behind. We need to discuss your critique."

I froze on my feet. I watched the rest of the class walk out of the room. Sienna shot me a nasty glare before she walked out the door.

Adrian waited until the very last student exited the hall. He stepped away from the wooden podium. He walked directly over to the heavy double doors and pushed them shut. He turned the metal locks until they clicked loudly in the empty room.

He slowly turned around, leaning his broad shoulders against the solid wood as his cold, distant professor facade vanished entirely.

"Now," he said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous register that echoed off the walls. "Are we going to pretend we're actually going to talk about your critique, or are you going to tell me exactly why you spent the last hour trying to push me over the edge?”