27

Chapter 27

Darcy’s Pov

I got home after midnight. The mansion was quiet and dark—Adrian, Pink, and the staff who lived here were all asleep. Just the securities were awake guarding the house. Only the echo of Brittany’s voice followed me through the empty halls like calm whispers.

"Is that the way to greet your future wife?"

Her words had been playing in my head on repeat since she said them. "Future wife".

Those words sounded very ridiculous, but she was bold when she said them. The certainty in her tone was clear, there was no way it could be misunderstood.

She wasn’t guessing. She believed it.

I walked into my room, still in my suit, my tie fell carelessly to the floor. Today was a very hectic day from Sophia to Brittany then the office meetings and conference.

Exhausted as I sat on the edge of the bed and tried to make sense of it all. My thought drifts to Brittany again and her sudden appearance. Brittany is pretty, yes we had chemistry but she's my past. But the only explanation that fits,was my parents.

For months, they’d been pushing me to find a wife. Discussing about getting myself a stable woman to help raise Pink, someone to build a picture-perfect family unit.

Every dinner. Every phone call. At first it had been subtle. Then it grew louder, clearer, harder to ignore.

But I had ignored it. I told them I wanted no part of an arranged marriage, no part of some union made to look like love. I made it clear my personal life was not their business.

And yet here we were.

A new surge of anger rose in my chest. How dare they decide my future for me? How dare Brittany play along as if it were already decided? The thought of her trying to seduce me, smiling at me as she sat on my desk, showing off her body.

To her it was all a game and it almost made me punch the wall.

I closed my eyes and forced myself to breathe. Deep. In and out. I couldn’t afford to lose control. I needed a plan. I needed to think before this whole mess spiraled out of control.

But not tonight.

I undressed slowly, each movement heavy with exhaustion. When I finally lay down, sleep didn’t come. Every time I closed my eyes, Brittany’s smirk appeared. Then Adrian’s face, in the kitchen when she had pulled back from me, the mix of fear and something else in her eyes. I pictured her in the garden with my daughter, they were excited. The image made me calm.

"Why can't Adrian be at peace when she's around me?" I mumbled.

Everything felt tangled together—my parents’ plans, Brittany’s sudden reappearance, Adrian’s quiet presence in my home, Mark’s ongoing investigation, and the secrets I carried alone.

I didn’t drift off until dawn. Even then my dreams were messy and restless, giving me no peace.

---

Morning felt like a habit. I woke early. Checked on Pink—still fast asleep, curled around her stuffed rabbit. I took a shower. Got dressed. Slipped out of the house before Adrian woke.

It was easier and peaceful this way.

Ever since that day in the kitchen, when we had that conversation. I got closer to kiss her, but the footsteps stopped.

She is scared to explore things with me and I decided to give her space. Pretended like nothing had happened. This feels cowardly, but it was safer.

Being near her was dangerous. I didn’t trust myself where she was. I can't stay calm so I had to avoid her at least to stop saying somethings I couldn’t take back. Better to give her space. Better to bury myself in work, where the rules were clear.

----

At the office, I lost myself in contracts, negotiations, and strategy. Mark brought me coffee and updates. The hours disappeared into the glow of my computer screen. Work was productive, but it didn’t satisfy me.

By evening, I was exhausted. But the anger about Brittany, the longing for Adrian, and the weight of everything I hadn’t said felt heavier than ever.

At nine o’clock, Mark stepped into my office. “Sir, aren’t you heading home? It’s late.”

I stared at the merger papers I’d been looking at without seeing them. “Not yet.”

“Respectfully, you’ve been here since six this morning. You need rest.”

“Going home feels exhausting,” I said, sharper than I meant to.

Mark closed the door and stepped closer. “Do you want to share? Maybe I can help.”

I almost laughed. How could Mark help me untangle the mess that was my life? But the concern in his eyes wasn’t fake. He meant it.

“No. I just need a drink to clear my head.”

His frown deepened. “Sir—”

“Arrange my ticket to Sparkles Club,” I cut in. “Just a few drinks. I’ll be fine.”

It wasn’t healthy, but it was better than my other ideas—showing up at Adrian’s door, calling Brittany, confronting my parents while drunk with rage.

Mark hesitated but nodded. “Alright. I’ll handle it.”

Minutes later, he returned. “All set. VIP section, as usual. Should I arrange for your driver?”

“Yes. And Mark?” I stood, picked my jacket and phone. “You can go home to your wife now, I bet she misses you.”

“Of course, sir.”

---

Sparkles Club was exactly what I needed—dim lights, loud music, anonymity. A place where I could drink and stop being Darcy Rodrigo, the CEO stuck in everyone else’s plans.

I sank into the VIP section and ordered the best bottle they had. The first glass burned going down. The second numbed me. By the third, the weight on my chest started to feel lighter.

One drink turned to many, by the time I remembered to check my watch, it was past midnight and the bottles were empty.

I wasn’t falling-down drunk, but I was well past good judgment. That fuzzy state where bad ideas start to sound like good ones.

I should have gone home and slept it off. Start tomorrow with a clear head.

The drive back to the mansion was faster. My driver, bless him, said nothing. He helped me out of the car, and also asked if I needed help to get to my room.

“I’m fine, go get some rest” I lied. “It’s late.”

He hesitated, then left me standing alone at my entrance.

I should have gone upstairs. Water. Aspirin. Bed.

But the alcohol had stripped away the walls I’d built. The feelings I’d kept locked up now screamed to be heard. I needed someone close. I needed to talk to someone. To let go of the weight in my heart.

And the person I wanted to talk to.

Adrian.

Tonight felt like the moment. The night to stop hiding, to break the distance I’d built between us. The night to tell the truth.

I walked down to the halls on unsteady feet. Then there was light spilled into the hallway from the kitchen.

And there she was.

Adrian was seated at the kitchen chair reading a book. It was wide open in front of her. Close by was a glass of juice.

She wore soft pajamas—it fit her so well, it showed her shoulders, she looked so beautiful in the warm light that it physically hurt.

She glanced up, surprised. “Darcy? I thought you were in bed.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” I said, my voice rough. “Apparently neither could you.”

Her eyes studied me. Recognition flickered there. “Are you just coming back? Have you been drinking?”

“A little,” I said, though it was far more than “a little.” “Or maybe a lot. Not sure at this point.”

She closed her book, her concern obvious now. “You should get some water and go to bed.”

“I should probably do a lot of things.” I stepped closer, not listening to the voice in my head telling me to go back to bed. “But right now, let's talk .”

“Darcy—”

“We need to have this conversation, Adrian.” I stopped at the other side of the island, gripping the marble counter for balance. “About everything. About us. About the things that make us avoid each other.”

She stood up, studied my face,“You’re drunk. This isn’t the right time.”

“When is the right time?” My desperation startled even me. “When do we stop pretending there’s nothing between us? When do you stop running, and when do I stop pretending not to chase? When do we just be honest?”

“Darcy, please.” Her voice was soft, low, she was pleading. “We can talk tomorrow when you’re sober.”

“Tomorrow, I’ll have a hundred reasons not to say this. Tomorrow, I’ll go to work pretending again.” My voice shook. “But now, I'm done pretending and running away from what I felt.”

She moved back until her back touched the counter behind her. Trapped again. Like before in the kitchen.

“Darcy, What do you want from me?” she asked. Fear and desires mixed in her eyes.

“Everything,” I said. “I want everything, Adrian. And it terrifies me as much as it terrifies you.”

---

The words were heavier than the silence. We stared at each other. Her chest rose and fell ŕhyming to mine, her hands gripped the counter. Her lips were slightly opened, but she couldn’t speak.

For the time we were close enough we felt our breath. The space between us was full with unspoken feelings and something we couldn’t name.

I know I wanted her to come closer in my arms. I wanted to taste his juicy pot tonight. The alcohol had broken down my strong walls and left only the truth.

And the truth was her.

"Please,I'm going insane, unable to touch your body," I begged shamelessly, "Just a taste, just one-time."