4. The Unspoken

Adryan strode into his office room, the heavy oak door shutting with a decisive thud. He poured himself a glass of red wine, the kind of vintage he usually reserved for quiet victories. Tonight, though, it was less celebration, more… distraction. He needed to work, to bury himself in legislation and policy briefings, to forget the way Gabby’s lips curved into a wicked smile and the way her body moved with such easy grace.

He opened his laptop, but the words on the screen blurred. The wine warmed his chest, loosening the rigid grip he always tried to keep over his mind. All he could see was her—her face in the car, her subtle, teasing glances, the glimmer in her eyes that dared him to lose control. He drained half the glass in one go, jaw tight.

Across the hall, Gabby had shed her elegant dress and was now in a simple nightgown. A glass of wine dangled from her hand as she lounged on the sofa, scrolling lazily through her phone. The wine had flushed her cheeks a little, making her look softer, less guarded. For the first time that day, her smile was unguarded, genuine.

Her new reality was bizarre, married to a man who seemed to hate her, yet surrounded by luxury, influence, and endless drama. It felt like a game, and Gabby couldn’t help but enjoy it. She sipped again, toes curling against the sofa cushion, letting herself sink into the haze of tipsiness.

In his office, Adryan swirled the wine in his glass, telling himself this was ridiculous. He shouldn’t care. She was infuriating. But the image of her leaning close earlier, whispering with that infuriating grin, haunted him more than he wanted to admit. “God, I can’t stand her,” he muttered, before refilling his glass.

The silence of the house was suddenly broken by a sharp ringtone. Gabby frowned, scanning the room. The sound was coming from a side table—Adryan’s phone. He must have left it there when he stormed off.

Adryan's phone. It rang again, the noise jarring. Gabby walked over and picked it up. The screen showed a single name: Adelyn Romney.

Gabby's eyebrows shot up. Ah. The 'other woman'.

The phone kept ringing. Gabby's hand hovered over the button to silence it, but a mischievous thought crossed her mind. She answered, her voice deliberately bright and cheerful.

"Hello?"

There was a moment of silence on the other end, then a confused, slightly strained voice. "Ryan? Is that you?"

"Oh, hello. I'm afraid this isn't Adryan. It's Gabby," Gabby replied with a disarmingly cheerful tone. "He's in his room, but I guess you can talk to me, can't you?"

A brief silence followed. "Why are you answering his phone?" Adelyn's voice was sharp, a distinct edge to it.

"Why not? I'm his wife," Gabby said simply. "Besides, I heard you two were very close. So, consider this a meet-and-greet. Nice to meet you."

A small sigh of defeat was audible on the other end of the line before Adelyn hung up without another word. Gabby smirked, placing the phone back on the table. A small, sweet victory. She turned to go back to the sofa.

In a corner of the hallway, however, two maids were whispering. Gabby, just about to walk away, froze.

"I don't know... I watched it on TV, at the event, Mr. Adryan seemed so close to Mrs. Gabby. I was surprised to see him smile," one maid whispered.

"That's just for the cameras. Mr. Adryan does it because he needs a good image," the other replied in a low voice. "I heard... he has a special relationship with his secretary, Miss Adelyn."

"Really? But Mrs. Gabby... she looks so different now."

"People like them never change. She's just playing a new trick. We'll see," the maid whispered, and the two hurried away, unaware that Gabby had overheard their entire conversation.

The smile on Gabby's face faded. Her hands clenched. She didn't care if Adryan and Adelyn were having an affair. That was their business. But she hated being gossiped about, and even more, she hated being underestimated. They thought she was just "playing a new trick"? She didn't like other people "messing with" her reputation.

With a now-serious expression, Gabby picked up Adryan's phone again. This wasn't about love or jealousy; it was about pride. She wouldn't let anyone ruin the little bit of fun she had just found.

She stood outside Adryan's working room, her hand hovering over the doorknob. Curiosity won. She pushed the door open slightly. The room was dark except for the light from his laptop. Adryan was leaning back in his chair, his eyes closed, the collar of his shirt unbuttoned. He looked tired, vulnerable, a stark contrast to the perfect politician he presented to the world.

Gabby walked in quietly. "Adryan?" she whispered.

His eyes snapped open. He looked at her, his expression a mix of exhaustion and irritation. "What do you want, Gabby? I'm busy."

"You look tired," she said, ignoring his tone. She walked over to the armchair and sat, her legs tucked beneath her. "It's not good to work so hard. You'll burn out."

"That's none of your concern," he said, turning back to his screen.

Gabby sighed. She stood up and walked to his desk, holding his phone in her hand. "Adelyn called me," Gabby said calmly. Then she paused, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Oh, I mean, she called you." She placed his phone on the table. "She sounds... sweet. I can see why you two get along so well."

His eyes widened, and he sat up straight. "What did you say?"

“Adelyn call you and she sounds sweet.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched. "Gabby, get out."

"No," she said, her voice now soft and serious. "I'm not leaving. I want to know. Is she... the reason?"

Adryan stood, his chair scraping against the floor. He loomed over her, his presence intense and dominating. "The reason for what, Gabriella? My marriage falling apart? The reason I can't stand to look at my wife? Was it your drama, your endless need for attention?"

The words hit her like a physical blow. Her carefree facade wavered for a second. This was the raw hatred she had only glimpsed before.

"I... I don't remember any of that," she said, her voice small.

Adryan's gaze softened slightly, seeing the genuine confusion and hurt in her eyes. "Of course, you don't," he muttered. He leaned in, his face now inches from hers. "You can pretend to be a different person, but you can't erase the past. And the past is the reason we're nothing more than strangers living in the same house."

He was so close she could feel the heat radiating from his body. Her breath hitched. The air was charged with a tension that was no longer just playful. It was primal, electric.

He looked down at her lips, his gaze intense. Gabby felt a sudden, inexplicable pull, a need to close the distance. She reached out and placed a hand on his chest. His heart was beating fast, a frantic rhythm that mirrored her own.

"Are we, though?" she whispered, her gaze locked on his. "Strangers? You're the only person I feel a connection with. Even if it's... anger."

Adryan's eyes closed briefly, as if in pain. He leaned in, his lips just a breath away from hers. "You don't understand," he breathed.

And then, his lips were on hers. It wasn't gentle. It was a raw, desperate kiss, a mix of anger, frustration, and a desire he had suppressed for years. Gabby's hand moved from his chest to his neck, pulling him closer as she met his kiss with equal ferocity. His hands went to her waist, pulling her flush against him, their bodies pressing together in a silent, explosive release of pent-up emotion.

The kiss deepened, becoming more demanding, more urgent. It was a kiss of two people who were meant to hate each other but were inexorably drawn together by a powerful, unspoken force.

Gabby’s mind spun. She should have pulled away, but instead she leaned into it, savoring the chaos in his touch, the fire that contradicted every cold word he’d ever thrown at her. So this is what’s beneath the ice, she thought, her pride swelling.

Adryan broke the kiss first, his breath ragged, his hands still gripping her waist as though he couldn’t decide whether to push her away or keep her close. His eyes burned with a mix of fury and something else—something he refused to name.

“This doesn’t change anything,” he muttered, his voice hoarse.

Gabby tilted her chin up, lips still tingling, a sly smile forming despite the storm inside her chest. “We’ll see, Senator. We’ll see.”

The silence that followed was heavier than the kiss itself, thick with everything unsaid.