Chapter 17

❤️Sophie❤️

I don't think I ever really sleep. At some point, I close my eyes, but every time I drift off, I dream of contracts, kidnapping, annoying billionaires, and my father throwing my suitcase out onto the street.

By the time sunlight slips through the curtains, I already have a headache.

A loud knock lands on my bedroom door.

“Sophie!” Dad’s voice echoes through the hallway. “It’s seven thirty.”

“ I know what time it is!”

“ Good. Then don't make your boyfriend wait.”

“ I highly doubt he’s the one waiting.”

“ Seven forty-five.”

“ I heard you the last time!”

Footsteps fade away, and I flop back onto my pillow. “I'm going to die.”

Five minutes later, Mom walks in carrying breakfast.

“You should eat.”

“ I’d rather panic.”

She sighs. “Your father has been pacing the living room since six.”

“Has he always been this dramatic?”

“ He ironed the tablecloth.”

I sit upright. “That was a joke, right?”

“ I wish it were, but no—that’s not the end. He polished the silverware twice. I'm starting to think he’s going to wash the entire house if your boyfriend doesn’t show up soon.”

“ Dear God,” the words slip out before I can stop them. I never knew my father had this side. He’s always so reserved.

It’s almost as if pregnancy hormones are bothering him rather than me.

Seven fifty-eight, the entire Harrison family is seated around the dining table. Dad checks his phone every thirty seconds.

Mom keeps smoothing invisible wrinkles from the tablecloth, and I keep staring at my phone. No message. No call. Nothing.

Maybe Adrian changed his mind. Maybe he realized marrying me was a terrible decision. Maybe...

The doorbell rings.

Dad stands up.

“ I will get it.”

“ No!” I jump up so quickly that my chair almost falls over. All eyes turn to me.

I force an awkward smile. “I mean... I will get it.”

Dad narrows his eyes.

“ I will get it,” I repeat. Too late.

He’s already heading toward the front door. My heartbeat pounds louder with each step.

Please be Adrian. Please don't be Adrian.

The front door opens. Silence. Long, uncomfortable, heavy silence. I can't see the entrance from the dining room.

But I hear Dad inhale sharply.

“Mr. Blackwood.”

My stomach drops. He’s here.

A calm voice replies.

“Mr. Harrison.”

Oh no. He’s using his CEO voice.

Dad doesn't speak for a few seconds, then finally murmurs,

“Please, come inside.”

Did Dad just say please? Since when does Felix Harrison say please?

Adrian walks into the dining room, dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit. Everything about him looks expensive—his presence, even his silence.

Behind him, two bodyguards carry neatly wrapped giant gift boxes.

Mom immediately rises.

“Oh my….”

She smoothes her dress unconsciously. I blink. Why is everyone acting like royalty just arrived?

Adrian stops by the table, his eyes meeting mine for exactly one second. No smile, nothing.

Just, “Good morning.”

For a moment, I find it hard to breathe. What about this man makes people so breathless?

I clear my throat.

“Good morning... Sir Adrian.”

My aunt coughs.

I quickly correct myself. “Babe.”

A muscle twitches in his jaw. “Babe?”

I bite my lip, winking at him, hoping he’ll finally get it. He doesn't.

“I'm babe now?”

I laugh nervously. “Of course, you usually like it when I call you that.”

He looks at me for a second.

Desperate to change the subject, I say, “You are late.”

“ I was preparing. I wanted to come with gifts.”

That shouldn't sound so hot. It definitely shouldn’t, especially coming from him. Yet, I feel a slight flutter in my stomach.

Dad clears his throat. “Please sit.”

Adrian pulls out my chair first.

I look up at him.

“ What are you doing?”

“ Sitting you down.”

Ignoring the protest about to slip from my mouth, I sit.

He takes a seat beside me—way too close. His expensive cologne drifts toward me. Great. Now even his perfume is intimidating.

I unconsciously clench my thighs.

God, this is stupid. It’s just a smell. I'm not supposed to react this way.

One of the bodyguards steps forward and places the gifts in a corner.

Dad looks surprised. “You didn't have to bring it.”

“ I know.”

That’s somehow more intimidating than saying you’re welcome.

Mom smiles. “What did you bring?”

“My assistant chose them.”

Of course. What did I think? A man like him wouldn’t have time to pick up packages himself.

Breakfast continues, and nobody speaks. The silence is so loud it rings in my ears. Then, suddenly, forks begin clattering against plates.

I keep adjusting in my chair, my eyes drifting to Adrian—the way he picks up his fork, eats so elegantly, and curls his strong, masculine fingers around the silverware.

I snap my eyes shut for a moment.

What the fuck is wrong with me? This man is the craziest CEO I’ve ever seen. Probably pregnancy hormones. Nothing more.

I force my focus back to my plate, and breakfast continues. The silence becomes more unbearable. I need to say something, or I’ll keep imagining all the great and horrible things those strong hands could do.

Swallowing hard, I try to start a conversation.

“ So, nice weather.”

All four heads turn toward me. My fingers find the hem of my dress instantly.

Mom closes her eyes briefly, dad pinches the bridge of her nose.

Adrian calmly cuts another piece of toast. My aunt pretends to be fascinated with her food. Great.

“ It rained yesterday,” he says beside me.

“ I know.”

“ So your observation is inaccurate.”

I blink. “You corrected my weather.”

“ I pointed out where you were wrong.”

Mom suddenly smiles. “So, Adrian, how did you meet my daughter?”

I nearly choke on my orange juice. Oh no. We never discussed this.

Quickly, I kick him under the table, hard. He doesn't flinch.

Instead, he calmly moves my foot away from his shoe, without looking at me, continuing his breakfast.

Adrian answers casually. “Online.”

Dad freezes. “Online?”

“Yes, she posted an advertisement.”

All color drains from my face.