23

Chapter 23

Darcy’s POV

After the climax happened, I felt empty again. I stood up naked, went to the bar and took a glass and a Cognac drink.

I could feel her eyes on me, not soft or playful like before, but sharp—accusing.

“Who’s Adrian?”

The question made my heart skip. I froze. I felt a shiver ran down my spine.

I sat up quickly, removed the bed sheets from my body.

Burning up in anger and shame, I stiffened

“What?” My voice, harsh. I didn't care anymore.

“Adrian,” she repeated, her voice rising. “You just moaned, another woman’s name. While I was…” She gestured at the bed, her face red with a mix of humiliation and fury. “So who the hell is Adrian?”

I didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Instead, rage bubbled in me— I was angry at myself for letting Adrian slip in this bèry time, angry at Sophia for noticing the name I called and also angry at the whole damn mess I had created.

I stood quickly and moved to the dresser where my wallet was. My hands moved coldly, without hesitation, pulling out a thick stack of bills, enough to make the insult sting less, but it was still an insult all the same.

“Get out,” I said, dropping the money on the bed.

Sophia’s eyes widened. She looked at the money like she couldn’t quite believe it. “Are you serious?”

“I said get out.” My voice was flat, dead. Next time she would mind her business.

“Darcy, wait…” She got off the bed and tried to grab my arm. “Is this about her? This Adrian? I can be better, I can be whatever you want me to…”

“Get. Out.” The words cracked like a whip.

Her voice shook. “Am I not sweet enough for you? What does Adrian have that I don’t?”

Everything, I thought bitterly. But I didn’t say it. I just pointed to the door, my jaw locked tight. “Take the money and leave. Please.”

That last word slipped out like a weak attempt to soften the cruelty, but it only made her face frown and burned with rage. She got up, wore her clothes and took the money. She fit her heels and headed to the doorknobs.

“You’re an asshole,” she spat. “A complete asshole.”

“I know,” I said quietly. It was the truth.

When she shut the door in anger, the sound made me flinch.

As I sat down alone in the hotel room, I felt bad not just for sleeping with Sophia but for moaning another woman's name.

I sat by the edge of the bed, placed my head on my hands. What did I even prove and to who? What had I just done? I had wanted to prove Adrian wasn’t special, that I could be satisfied with anyone, that she hadn’t gotten under my skin. Instead, I’d proven the opposite.

When I was making out with Sophia,I was thinking about Adria–her face, her voice, the feel of her lips when I kissed her. Adrian is my addiction. It has consumed me, even here, even now.

I had said her name out loud. Whispered it like a prayer. Like a confession.

The anger I felt toward myself was crushing. I had used Sophia, dragged her into my mess just to try and escape another woman. It was selfish and cruel.

I needed to wash this night off me.

The cold water from the shower was chilly but it did nothing to clear my head. If anything, it made it worse. Adrian filled every thought. The way she trembled against me in the kitchen, the way I pressed her on the counter. Her succulent breast.

My body responded instantly to the memory. I relieved myself fast and without emotion, but Adrian was still the only person on my mind.”

When I walked out of the hotel, I went back to the company. I didn't want to go home early. Not with this obsession gnawing at me, raw and exposed. I needed to be anywhere else.

It was nearly six. The board meeting was at six-thirty. Perfect. Work would be my escape.

The office was quiet when I arrived,some employees had gone home leaving the board members for the meeting and a few late-night employees at their desks. Mark was still there, of course. He looked up, startled.

“Sir? I thought you had the day off.”

“Change of plans. Is the conference room ready?”

“Yes, sir. Everything’s prepared.” He hesitated. “You… seem off. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I said. “Just need to review documents.” knowing I was a smooth lie.

In my office, I buried myself in contracts and reports, forcing my brain onto numbers and strategies, things I could control. But from time to time I was lost in the thoughts of kissing Adrian’s lips.

I was angry I couldn't control my mind, then I slammed my hand on the desk, the sharp pain snapping me back. I was losing control. I had to get myself together before I ruined everything.

Thankfully, the board meeting did its job. Three hours of intense negotiations demanded my full focus. For the first time today, I wasn’t thinking about her. By the time the meeting was over, signing deals worth hundreds of millions, I almost felt like myself again.

I was packing up when Mark appeared in the doorway.

“Sir, there’s someone waiting for you in reception.”

“At this hour?” I looked at my watch, it was nearly eight. “Who?”

The look on his face made my stomach drop for a while.

“Brittany Hawthorne. She says it’s important.”

Of course. Of course it was Brittany.

“How long has she been here?”

“Since four. I told her you were in a meeting, but she said she’d wait.”

Five hours. She’d been sitting out there for five hours. That level of persistence was either determination or madness and with Brittany, it was both.

I should send her away. But I knew it would only drag things out. Brittany never gave up.

“Send her in,” I said, my voice heavy with resignation.

Mark frowned. “Are you sure? I can tell her you left.”

“No. Let’s get this over with.” I loosened my tie. “Five minutes. Then show her up.”

When Mark left, I braced myself. Brittany. The name alone was enough to bring the memories back.

Three years ago, I thought I’d marry her. I had been ready to propose. Then I found her in the Hamptons, on the beach, tangled up with Thomas Wellington—her “friend.”

The image was carved into me: her moaning, his hands all over her, her annoyed face when she noticed me standing there. Not guilty. Not ashamed. Just irritated, I'd caught her.

Later, she told me it “meant nothing,” that it was just physical. But how could I believe she loved me when she betrayed me so easily?

We ended that night. I threw myself into work, into building this empire, into forgetting her.

Then she got pregnant. Twins, she said. Thomas’s. Maybe. She pleaded with me to take her back, she said if I give her another chance that we would raise the children together and she'd changeFor one moment, I almost did. The thought of family, of children, had tempted me.

Then she aborted them. Quietly. On her own. Because her career was more important.

That was the end.

And now, here she was.

Five minutes later, Mark knocked.

“Ms. Brittany,” he announced.

She walked in like she was the cEO of my company.

Brittany looked younger, exactly as I remembered— she was still beautiful, flawless, expensive. A cream dress that clung to her curves, perfect hair, perfect makeup, every step calculated to draw attention probably my attention. She was everything society expected at my side.

But she wasn’t Adrian.

And all I felt when I looked at her was exhaustion.

“Darcy,” she said warmly, like we were old friends, not ghosts from a broken past. “Thank you for seeing me so late.”

“Brittany.” I didn’t stand. Didn’t offer her a seat. My voice was cool, detached. “What do you want?”

If my coldness bothered her, she didn’t show it. She smiled that perfect, practiced smile and walked closer.

“Is that any way to greet your future wife?”