My Victoria.

Adrian’s POV

I knew I wouldn't be getting any sleep tonight.

I was wide awake, pacing the length of my suite restlessly. I checked my bedside lamp, it was 7pm in the evening.

I stopped near the full length mirror, staring back at my reflection. My mind kept pulling me back to what happened some minutes ago, to the moment I held Victoria against the wall in her bedroom.

I could still feel the lingering heat of her body on mine. I could still smell the sweet scent of jasmine on her skin. But more than anything, it was her eyes I couldn't stop picturing.

Her very unique eyes, shining fiercely at me. They were wide with rage, fear, and a strange, electric challenge that made my blood run hot.

There was a raw, unfiltered attraction blooming between us that defied every single rule I had established. This was dangerous and completely against the cold, clean transaction this marriage was supposed to be.

What exactly is happening? Women never rattled me this much. I have everything strictly under control when it comes to them.

And then there was her story.

Peter Cole.

The name rolled around in my head, feeling entirely off. I had been a CEO for many many years and I read people for a living. Her description of an overweight, forty five years old man stalking her had tiny loopholes that made me feel like she could be lying. Or trying to deceive me.

If she wasn't lying, then she was leaving out major pieces of the truth.

Yet, the fear radiating from her body had been completely real. The violent tremor in her body at the café, the pulse I had felt hammering against my palm when I cupped her jaw…none of that could be fake.

But why will Richard himself not get rid of whoever was trying to stalk his precious daughter? Or was she hiding it from him too?

I signed and pinched the bridge of my nose.

Why lie about who was coming after her? What was she hiding in that damn purse that she was willing to shove me back with every ounce of her strength to protect?

A soft, muffled clatter shattered the quiet in my room.

I froze.

It was coming from her room. It sounded like glass or ceramic falling and shattering, followed immediately by a sharp, choked gasp.

Victoria.

I didn't think twice, I walked over to her room, unlocked the connecting door, and pushed it wide open.

“Victoria?”

The sight before me made my heart drop straight into my stomach.

She was kneeling on the floor, and her small body was trembling. Her makeup kit lay empty on the ground turned upside down, a small glass jar had fallen on the tiles and pieces of glass and cream spilled all over..

In her shaking, pale hands, she was holding a folded piece of cream-colored paper.

Her face was entirely stripped of makeup, and her skin was ghostly pale. Her eyes were staring blankly at the paper as if she was looking at a ghost. She was hyperventilating, taking short gasps of air as a full-blown panic attack consumed her.

“Victoria!”

I dropped to my knees beside her, ignoring the glass on the floor and held her hands in mine. They were as cold as ice, even though she was sweating.

“Hey,” I said, trying hard to sound as soft as possible. “Look at me. Victoria, breathe!”

She didn't seem to hear me. She was trapped in her own mind, her chest heaving violently, tears welling up in her wide eyes but refusing to fall. She looked completely broken and pitiful.

Seeing her like this—so helpless, so genuinely terrified, made me feel an overwhelming surge of power to protect her and totally wreck whoever put her in this state.

I wrapped my arms around her shoulders and pulled her tight against my chest.

She flinched violently at the sudden contact, but I didn't let go. I pulled her tighter, tucking her head under my chin, holding her close to my body.

It was the first time I was holding her this close since the wedding and honestly it felt good. I made a mental note to hold her more.

“I've got you,” I murmured into her soft, damp hair, rubbing steady circles on her back. “Breathe, damn it. You're safe. I'm right here.”

For a second, she stayed stiff as a board. Then, a ragged, heartbreaking sob broke out of her throat, her defense mechanism finally dissolving.

She collapsed into me, her fingers gripping the front of my shirt, holding me tight, as if I was the only thing keeping her from drowning. She buried her face in the crook of my neck, her whole body shaking violently as she cried.

I kept holding her tight.

I had so many questions to ask right now, but they could wait. I just held her tight, feeling the frantic beat of her heart hammering against my chest.

Finally, her breath evened out, turning into soft, exhausted hiccups against my neck. She didn't pull away, and neither did I. She remained curled up on my body as we lay on the bathroom floor, completely relying on my strength.

If I didn't see her face when I came in, I would have been convinced this wasn't Victoria.

My Victoria. Seeking warmth and consolation from none other but me.

As I held her, my eyes drifted down to the note slipping from her loosening grip on the floor. The obvious cause of her panic attack.

I couldn't read the exact words from this angle, but I saw enough. I saw the neat handwriting and I could telI it was freshly written.

My security team had searched this entire floor and they had assured me nothing had gotten past their sweep. Yet someone had walked right into her bathroom and left a message inside her personal belongings.

A dark, lethal fury ignited deep in my gut, burning hotter than anything I’d ever felt before.

Someone was playing games with me.

Someone was stalking, threatening, and terrorizing my wife.

Maybe, they thought they could use her to get to me. They thought they could breach my security and leave their sick little notes behind without consequences.

They were dead wrong.

I tightened my arms around her, resting my cheek lightly against the top of her head as her breathing finally smoothed out into a deep, exhausted rhythm.

She was keeping secrets from me. She was lying about her past and her stalker. I knew that now more than ever. But I wouldn't push for answers until she was ready to give them.

Looking down at her pale face resting against my chest, I realized it didn't change a single damn thing if she gave me answers or not.

Whoever sent this note had crossed a line.

I made a silent, ruthless vow right then and there. I didn't care who this stalker was and I didn't care if Victoria took her secrets to her grave.

She was under my name now and she was under my protection. Whoever was doing this to her was going to answer to me. And they would pay with everything they had.

I carried my wife to the bed.