Chapter 8

Marceline stood at the stone railing of the balcony, feeling the cool night air brushing against her cheeks.

She had only been outside for a minute when soft footsteps sounded behind her again.

She did not turn right away. She already knew who it was.

“What now?” she asked, her voice sharp enough to cut through the quiet. “Did you follow me out here so you could humiliate yourself even more? Trying to hurt someone who doesn’t even love you at all? does that make you feel powerful, Adrian?”

Marceline knew deep down that she had feelings for him...and she hated the fact that she feel for an arrogant jerk like him. A jerk who made her heart skip a beat each time she saw him.

He stopped two steps away...his cologne filled the air, the same scent that made her tummy flood with butterflies...Then the words hit harder than he expected. For a second his expression slipped...surprise first, then something darker settling in.

“You’re walking a thin line,” he said, voice low. “You seem to forget that no one talks to me like that.“

Marceline finally turned to face him. “Am I? Or are you just not used to hearing the truth?”

He opened his mouth, closed it, then closed the distance in three long strides until he stood directly in front of her.

He looked down at her shorter frame, at the heavy curve of her belly, at the slight swelling in her ankles that the bunny slippers could not hide. For a second, it almost melted his icy heart. He hated weakness.

“Aren’t you afraid I’ll crush you?” he asked. “Right here. Right now. One push and you’re over that railing.”

Marceline lifted her chin and did not step back. “You don’t have the balls. Not unless you want to end your own heir in the process. Is that what your father would have wanted? Tell me honestly.”

Adrian’s jaw tightened. “Do not bring my father into this.”

“Why not?” she pressed. “In his time even an ant wouldn’t be hurt if it had done nothing wrong. He ruled with fairness. You just rule with temper and locked doors and women you parade through this house like they mean nothing.”

His eyes widened. His lips pressed together so tightly they trembled. The quiet of the balcony suddenly felt too small for the anger rising in him.

“You dare question my authority?” he shouted, the sound carrying across the dark grounds. “In my own house? In front of me?”

Marceline’s mouth curved into a small, deliberate smirk. “Yes. I do.”

The single word hung between them like a challenge.

Adrian stared at her for another long second, chest rising and falling hard. “You think you’re clever,” he said, voice dropping again. “You think that sharp tongue of yours protects you.”

“It doesn’t need to protect me,” she answered. “Your own bloodline does. Touch me the wrong way and you risk everything you just inherited. You’re not stupid enough to forget that.”

He said nothing for a moment. Then he turned without another word and walked back inside.

Marceline stayed where she was, hands resting on the cold stone railing, listening to the sound of drawers opening and closet doors slamming somewhere deeper in the house. She let out a deep breath and began to scroll through her acceptance letter on her G***l.

In his room Adrian pulled the black leather jacket from the closet...It was exactly like the one he had not worn in years...and a pair of dark jeans that fit the same way they had when he was younger, when he still tried to pretend he was not the son of a tycoon. He dragged the jacket on, ran a hand through his damp hair, and checked his reflection once.

“Fits,” he muttered to himself. “Good.”

He left the estate with the same icy mood set to his shoulders he used to carry in the old days.

In the car he pulled out his phone and called the only number he still trusted completely.

“Ethan,” he said the moment the line connected. “I need girls...Hot and sexy girls....The usual kind..and book the private room at the club. Make it loud.”

Ethan’s voice came through, half-amused. “Rough night with the wife again?”

“Just arrange it,” Adrian replied. “I’m already on my way.”

Ethan chuckled a little before Adrian hang up. He knew Adrian very well. He only went to clubs when he was frustrated, or he was trying to get away from his father.

Growing up together, getting in trouble together and having endless fights. They ended up being friends. When Ethan's parents were shot by the Donovans...A ruthless gang that rides on playing dirty and killing the innocent, Adrian's father took Ethan in untill he graduated and built his own empire...The Reed Holdings.

Ethan made the calls, arranging the best females he could find. Even though he knew deep down..No woman can have Adrian worked up like this unless he liked her. But no one would know that for sure.

Ethan was already waiting outside the club when Adrian’s car pulled up. Neon lights washed over the entrance in shifting blues and reds.

A short line of people stood behind a velvet rope, but the moment the bouncer saw Adrian step out in the black leather jacket he had not worn in years, the rope was lifted without a word.

“You look like shit,” Ethan said by way of greeting, falling into step beside him. “Rough night at in paradise?”

Adrian scoffed and rolled his eyes .. he did not answer until they were past the main doors and moving through the dark hallway that led to the private rooms. The bass already pulsed through the walls.

“She’s impossible,” he muttered at last. “Standing on that balcony talking to me like she has any right. Comparing me to my father. Saying I don’t have the balls to crush her.”

Ethan raised an eyebrow as they reached the private room. Two of the girls he had arranged were already inside, drinks in hand. A third arrived a minute later. The music was loud enough to shake the walls the moment the door closed behind them.

Adrian took the first glass without asking what was in it and drank half of it in one go. He dropped onto the long couch and stared at nothing.

“She looked me dead in the eye and told me I rule with temper,” he continued, voice cold and tight. “As if she knows the first thing about running this family. As if she didn’t walk into my life as a bride for that stupid debt I wish I could have ignored...i am already rich..I have everything....But the old man wouldn't spare me if he discovered some fucker didn't repay five billion.”

One of the women slid closer on the couch, resting a hand on his arm. But Adrian barely glanced at her.

Ethan chuckled slightly, his dark brown hair falling on his face highlighting his glorious face and poured himself a drink....he leaned against the opposite wall, watching his friend with open amusement. “You’re talking about her an awful lot for someone who claims she doesn’t matter.”

“I’m trying to make a point asshole,” Adrian said flatly..

“Sounds like more than venting.” Ethan’s mouth curved. “You’re in love with her. That’s what this is. The shouting, the drinking, the sudden need for party girls at two in the morning...trust me dude...its the classic signs.”

Adrian’s head snapped toward him. “Don’t be an idiot. I’m not in love with Marceline. She’s nothing but a contract wife with my kid....A means to an heir because I promised the old man..Nothing else.”

“Keep telling yourself that.” Ethan raised his glass in a mock toast. “Maybe one day you’ll believe it. Even when we would visit the countryside, you always found a way to see her and make her life miserable...Its like you couldnt breathe without seeing her.”

Adrian finished the rest of his drink and immediately reached for another. “Shut the fuck up.“

Ethan laughed and lit up a cigar...The smoke filled the air, clouding his face.

While Adrian let the ladies press close....their perfume filling his nostrils as soft laughter and hands that tried to draw his attention...but his mind stayed fixed on the balcony, on the sharp voice that had cut through him, on the way she had smirked when she said yes.

The music kept pounding. The glasses kept emptying. And still the frustration sat cold and heavy in his chest, refusing to ease no matter how much he drank.

One of them leaned against his shoulder. “You’re on fire tonight.”

“I’m thinking idiot,” he answered, eyes half-lidded.

Another trailed a finger along the leather of his jacket. “We can help with that.”

He only smirked and raised his glass again.

When the clock pushed past two he stood, collected three of the women with a single look, and left the club the same way he had arrived..... The drive back to the Cross estate was quiet except for the soft laughter of the drunk ladies from the back seat.

They jumped from their seats the second they saw the mansion.

Adrian gritted his teeth and clenched his jaw. For a second, he missed riding the car with Marceline. She was always silent and spoke when necessary even when she saw something she liked. He liked the composed version of her.

He snapped back to reality and glared at one of the ladies who couldn't stop taking pictures. She immediately put the phone away.

He didn't want unnecessary rumours flying around the media.

“Your place is huge, right?” one of them asked.

“You’ll see,” Adrian said.

He had completely forgotten about Victoria waiting in his study.

The moment he stepped through the front doors with the women trailing behind him, the study door opened. Victoria walked out, arms crossed, eyes flashing with barely controlled fury.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she said, voice rising. “I sat in that room for hours, Adrian. Hours. And you show up with...what is this? Entertainment? Party girls?”

Adrian leaned against the wall, still wearing the leather jacket, eyes glassy from drink. He looked her over once and shrugged.

“Victoria....Dont act surprised.....you can leave,” he said. “Or join. Your choice. I’m not in the mood to argue.”

Victoria’s mouth opened, then closed. She took a step closer. “You’re drunk and you’re being reckless. What is wrong with you tonight?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” he answered. “I’m exactly where I want to be.”

She stared at him as if she no longer recognized the man in front of her. “I waited for you for hours.”

“And now you can leave,” he repeated, already turning his attention toward the staircase.

Somewhere in the back of his mind he was waiting...expecting the sound of footsteps, the sharp voice that would cut through the drunken haze and demand to know what he thought he was doing.

He wanted the confrontation. He wanted the fire. He wanted Marceline to see him like this and finally break the calm she had been wearing like armor.

Instead the house stayed silent for several long seconds.

Then, from the top of the stairs, a voice finally cut through the air—clear, sharp, and impossible to ignore.

“Adrian…!”

Marceline’s voice echoed down from upstairs.

Adrian’s mouth curved into a slow smirk.