CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

 Adrian’s POV 

A low groan slipped from my mouth as my eyes cracked open. Instantly, a sharp pain stabbed at my skull, like someone had taken a sledgehammer or maybe an entire wrecking ball to my head.

“Shit,” I muttered under my breath. “What the hell happened?”

Blinking through the haze, I pushed myself upright, only to realize I was down to nothing but my underwear. My body ached in a way that didn’t make sense. That was…concerning.

I turned to my nightstand and noticed two Advil sitting neatly beside a sweating glass of orange juice. Like someone knew exactly what kind of mess I’d wake up in. Dazed, I reached for the pills, popped them into my mouth, and downed them with a gulp of juice so big I nearly choked. Once the glass hit the table again, I collapsed back against the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

What the fuck happened last night?

I forced my throbbing brain to rewind. The diner with  Clara… heading home after some asshole tried to harass me in the bathroom… Oh God. My stomach twisted. That bathroom. I remembered a hand on me, the smell of something wrong, and the sudden, awful realization 

I was almost raped.

“Holy shit,” I whispered, squeezing my eyes shut. My chest rose and fell too quickly. What the hell was wrong with me? Why was I even in that situation?

The ugly truth hit me like ice water.

I was horny. Period.

And then the sound of the bedroom door creaked open. My head snapped to the side, my pulse leaping.

 Damien stepped in, wearing a warm smile and carrying a tray stacked with food. Pancakes, waffles, syrup, the works. He looked annoyingly perfect, like some domestic husband out of a romcom.

“Oh, you’re awake!” His voice was way too cheerful for my current headache. He set the tray aside and sat down beside me. “How’re you feeling?”

“Like my head’s been smashed into a brick wall. Then smashed again. And again. And aga ”

“Okay, okay. I get it,” he cut in, chuckling as I sat up against the headboard.

“Hubby,” I groaned, rubbing my temples, “what the hell happened last night? I seriously don’t remember a thing after  Clara and I left the diner.”

For a moment,  Damien’s expression shifted. His smile faltered. He looked nervous like he knew something I didn’t. My chest tightened.

Oh, fuck. Did something awful happen? Was I kidnapped? Drugged? Did my family have to call the CIA and trade state secrets for my release?

Stop. Stop overthinking. My brain felt like it was on fire just trying to connect dots.

 Damien placed his hands firmly on my shoulders, grounding me. His sigh was heavy, almost resigned.

“Adrian,” he said quietly. “You need to listen, okay?”

I frowned but nodded.

“You were drugged. By Vince.”

The words slapped me harder than my headache ever could.

“I was…WHAT ahh, shit.” I cut myself off with another groan, clutching my forehead. Shouting hurt too much.

 Damien’s face was tight with worry. “Are you okay?”

I gave a short nod, though the answer was obviously no.

“Tell me everything,” I whispered.

 Damien exhaled and launched into it. “I called  Clara last night. She said you started acting strange after drinking your iced tea. She told me some guy probably one of Vince’s people tried to force himself on you in the diner bathroom. You got away, but by then the drugs had kicked in. You stumbled into my office…” His jaw clenched. “You were out of it. Completely. And you were ” He stopped, searching for the right word.

“Horny,” I said bitterly.

He winced but nodded. “I brought you home because I didn’t know what else to do. Then… Vince called me. I don’t know how he even got my number, but he said he was the one who drugged you. He admitted he’d sent someone after you, but when it failed, he laughed. He said the drugs would only make you desperate. That all you needed was…”  Damien hesitated, swallowing hard, “…a good fuck.”

Heat surged in my face. I jerked upright. “Wait. Wait, wait, wait. Are you telling me did we ” My throat closed. “Did I just…lose my virginity and not even remember it?”

 Damien actually chuckled. The bastard.

I hurled a pillow at his face. “This isn’t funny! Do you realize how messed up this is?!”

But before I could spiral, another thought stabbed through the fog. “What about Vince?!”

And just like that,  Damien’s whole demeanor shifted. His smile disappeared. His eyes hardened.

“I talked to him. He said he was leaving town and wouldn’t bother us again.”

I stared at him, waiting for the part where he said he told Vince to rot in hell. But then  Damien added, quietly, “And…I forgave him.”

“What?!” My voice cracked with fury. “You forgave him? He drugged me! He almost had me  Damien, I was nearly ” My hands trembled. “How could you just forgive him like that?”

His fists clenched at his sides, his breathing uneven. “Because I’m tired,  Adrian. I’m tired of hating him. Tired of carrying that poison around every day. I wanted to let it go.”

I shook my head in disbelief. “So you let it go by forgiving the man who tried to ruin me?”

The room boiled with our shouting until finally I snapped: “Get the fuck out.”

His eyes flashed. “This is my house.”

“Fine. I’ll leave.”

But before I could stand, he shoved me gently back against the bed. “No. You’re not leaving. I’ll go. Just…eat.” His voice cracked. He turned, paused at the door, then added, “If you’re planning revenge on Vince, good luck. He’s gone. There’s nothing you can do.”

The door clicked shut.

That’s when the tears came.

Hot, unstoppable, humiliating tears that soaked my pillow. I hated fighting with  Damien. I hated that I hadn’t even said thank you for taking care of me. Instead, I’d pushed him away.

I glanced at the tray of pancakes, noticing the syrup was shaped badly into a crooked little heart. My chest ached. He wanted breakfast in bed with me. And I’d ruined it.

I bolted out of bed, half from guilt, half from desperation. My headache had dulled, leaving only the sharp ache of regret. When I found him in the kitchen, sitting hunched over with his face buried in his hands, my heart cracked.

Without thinking, I wrapped my arms around him from behind and kissed the top of his head. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, before sliding into his lap.

 Damien clung to me like he was afraid I’d vanish. “I don’t want us to fight,” he murmured.

“Me neither,” I breathed. “I was stupid. Vince doesn’t matter. You do.”

And just like that, the wall between us shattered. We kissed, soft and desperate, until words didn’t matter anymore.

Later that night,  Damien surprised me with a makeshift “picnic” in front of the fireplace candles, food, and champagne. It was romantic and ridiculous and so was he.

I laughed, drinking from my glass, when suddenly a thought hit me. “ Damien…did I really not lose my virginity last night?”

He choked, nearly spilling his drink. “Of course not. I just…uh…gave you a blowjob.”

I almost dropped my champagne. “WHAT?!”

My face burned. My chest tightened. I tried to laugh it off, but unease prickled under my skin.

Because later, when  Damien kissed me again, gentle and careful, I felt his hesitation. His guilt.

And in that moment, a terrible thought wormed its way into my head:

What if he was lying?

What if  Damien had taken more from me last night than he wanted to admit?

And worse…what if Vince hadn’t actually left town?