Thick Tension.

Adrian’s POV

I sat back against the smooth leather seat of the limousine, never breaking eye contact with her.

The silence inside the car was heavy. Through the window, the world rolled past us in a blur, but my entire focus was pinned on the woman sitting beside me.

Victoria looked like she wanted the earth to open up and swallow her whole. Her lips were pressed into a tight line, her color completely gone, and her hands were clutched tightly in her lap.

“I asked you a question, Victoria,” I said, keeping my voice dangerously calm. “What the hell was that all about back at the café?”

She swallowed hard, turning her head towards the tinted window. “Nothing, Adrian. I just felt dizzy for a second. The lights, the cameras—it was a lot.”

“Don't play dumb with me,” I snapped, leaning closer so she couldn't escape my gaze. “You've been around lights, cameras, the media, for your entire life, so that's hardly an excuse. I held you. I felt your heart pounding like it was trying to break out of your chest. You didn't just feel dizzy. You were terrified. You stared across that river like you were looking at a ghost.”

“I told you I'm fine!” she said sharply, her head whipping back around to glare at me.

“You're far from fine,” I countered, my eyes narrowing. “Nothing about you in the last twenty-four hours makes any damn sense.”

She stiffened, a flicker of genuine alarm flashing in her bright green eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“Let's count it up, shall we?” I began, checking the points off on my fingers. “First, you cried bitterly in your room last night like your world was ending. Then, you ate your food like a starving person who’d never held a fork properly in her life. And all day long, every time you think I'm not looking, your eyes keep darting towards that purse of yours.”

Every word I spoke seemed to hit straight home. Her cheeks flushed red, and her chest rose and fell in fast, shallow breaths.

“I am trying to figure out what kind of game you're playing, Victoria,” I continued, pressing my advantage. “Because if you're bringing trouble into my life or my company, I need to know about it. Now.”

That was the breaking point. The defensive, scared look on her face melted away, replaced by pure, blinding rage.

“A game?” she spat, her voice tight with anger. “You think everything is about you and your stupid company?”

“You're my wife now—”

“A fake wife!” she cut me off, her eyes blazing. “In a fake marriage! Or did you already forget the neat little list of rules you recited to me on our very first night?”

I blinked, momentarily taken aback by the heat in her voice.

“Rule number one,” she continued, leaning forward until her face was just inches from mine, not backing down an inch. “Separate lives. Rule number three, do not fall in love with me, do not meddle in my business, and stay out of my personal space! You sat there like a king giving orders, telling me to mind my own business. Yet here you are, interrogating me like a controlling husband!”

“I am not interrogating you—”

“You are prying!” she yelled, her hand slamming against the leather seat between us. “You don't get to act cold and distant one minute, and then pretend you care about my feelings or what's in my head the next! You asked for a transaction, Mr. Adrian Kingsley. So stick to the contract and leave me the hell alone!”

I stared at her, my jaw clenching hard.

Nobody talked to me like that. Nobody. But as I looked at her—her eyes flashing with fire, her hair slightly wild, her body trembling with absolute fury—I realized something troubling.

Victoria Hale wasn't just some delicate, pampered heiress. She had teeth. And right now, she was fighting me back with everything she had.

Before I could answer, the car smoothly slowed down and came to a stop in front of our hotel. The driver rushed around to open the door, breaking the unbearable tension inside the vehicle.

Without waiting for me, Victoria grabbed her purse, pushed past the driver, and marched straight into the hotel lobby.

I took a deep breath, straightened my cuffs, and followed her fast, angry steps all the way up the private elevator. Neither of us said a single word as the lift carried us up to the top floor. The silence between us felt like a lit grenade waiting to explode.

The moment the elevator doors slid open at our suite, she marched towards her room, pulling the door open to slam it in my face.

I moved faster.

I caught the door with my palm before she could close it, pushing it wide open and stepping right into her space.

“No!” She gasped, stepping back. “Get out of my room, Adrian.”

Instead of leaving, I kept advancing until her back hit the solid wall beside the bed drawer. She trapped herself. I stepped up close, placing one hand on the wall right beside her head, effectively blocking her in.

The sudden closeness increased the tension in the room like five times more.

My chest was almost touching hers. I could smell the faint scent of jasmine on her skin, mixed with the warmth of her quick breath. Her eyes went wide, reflecting my own dark, intense reflection back at me. Her lips parted slightly, her pulse visibly hammering in her throat.

For a second, the anger in the air shifted to become something far more dangerous. The thick, raw chemistry we had faked for the cameras at the café suddenly felt completely real, heavy, and undeniable. My eyes dropped to her lips for a fraction of a second before snapping back up to her face.

She swallowed hard, her hand instinctively tightening around the strap of her purse, clutching it against her side like a shield.

That small movement snapped me right back to reality.

My eyes dropped to the small bag held tightly in her hands.

“You've been holding onto that purse like your life depends on it since yesterday,” I said, my voice low, husky, and completely devoid of humor.

She tried to pull it behind her back. “It's just my bag.”

“If you have nothing to hide,” I murmured, leaning in a fraction of an inch closer, feeling the heat radiating off her skin, “then open it.”

“No.”

“Open the purse, Victoria.”

“I said no!” she defied, glaring up at me, though her voice shook slightly.

I reached down, my long fingers wrapping firmly around the leather strap of her purse. “I'm not asking anymore.”