Chapter Three — Adrian

The purr of the engine faded into silence as I killed the ignition. For a moment, I sat there in the stillness of the car, fingers tightening around the steering wheel as if I could squeeze the heat out of my veins.

Nova sat beside me, looking smug, arms crossed over her chest like she’d just won a prize fight. Maybe she had.

I shouldn’t have agreed. I shouldn’t have let her push me into this corner. But there she was, a living reminder of every rule I’d broken the second I let her words get under my skin.

“Nice car,” she said, running her hand along the leather seat like she was caressing it. Her voice carried that same teasing lilt she’d used all night—mocking, daring. “Bet it makes women fall over themselves for you.”

I forced myself to look straight ahead, jaw tight. “It’s just a car.”

She laughed softly. “Says the man driving a Mercedes worth more than my cousin’s house.”

I finally turned, meeting her eyes. Dark, mischievous, unafraid.

That was the thing about Nova—fearless to the point of recklessness. Yet so sweet. My brother hadn’t deserved her. Hell, neither did I.

“Stop looking at me like that,” I muttered.

“Like what?” she asked innocently, though her lips curled at the edges.

“Like you’re testing me.”

Her smile widened. “Maybe I am.”

God help me.

I dragged a hand through my hair, trying to steady myself. “Listen carefully. If this thing is going to happen… this fake dating nonsense… it happens my way. And there are rules.”

“Rules,” she echoed, tilting her head. “Knew you’d say that.”

“First rule,” I said, voice low and firm, “No one knows. Not your cousin, not your friends, not anyone. This stays between us.”

She hummed thoughtfully, like she was turning the idea over on her tongue. “A dirty little secret, then.”

The way she said it made my throat dry. “Don’t romanticize it. This isn’t a game.”

“Sure it is,” she countered lightly. “We’re pretending, remember? Sounds like a game to me.”

I ignored her and continued. “Second rule: I decide when this starts and when it ends. Not you. If I say it’s over, it’s over.”

She let out a laugh, short and sharp. “So you’re the one in control?”

“Yes,” I said flatly, even as the lie tasted bitter.

Because truth was, I wasn’t in control. Not with her sitting two feet away in a dress that clung to her in ways I had no business noticing.

Her eyes sparkled as if she could see right through me. “Keep telling yourself that, Mr Castellane.”

Mr Castellane, as hot as it sounded coming from her mouth, it pissed me off. She never called me by my first name…. Deep down I wondered how it sound coming from her.

My patience was thinning, but I pressed on. “Third rule. Don’t mistake this for something real. This isn’t about you and me. This is about teaching my brother a lesson.”

For a second, the words hung between us like smoke. She studied me quietly, and I hated how much I wanted to know what she was thinking.

Finally, she rolled her eyes. “Good. Because it will be gross. You and I as a real thing.”

I clenched my jaw. “Exactly.”

But even as I said it, my gaze betrayed me, sliding over the curve of her legs, the way the streetlight poured through the windshield and kissed her skin. She noticed, of course she noticed, and the grimace on her face made me want to both curse and kiss her at the same time.

She leaned closer, her perfume wrapping around me, sweet and dangerous. “You know, you could’ve just dropped me off and let me walk inside. But you didn’t. You’re still sitting here, laying down rules like we’re about to sign a contract.”

“Because I need you to understand exactly what this is.” I shot back.

Her eyes searched mine, quick and sharp, but for a heartbeat I caught something else—something almost uncertain beneath the bravado. Then it was gone, replaced by that taunting smile.

“What if I don’t understand?”

I forced my voice low, steady. “Then you’ll regret it.”

Her lips parted, daring me. “You think you scare me?”

“I don’t want to scare you,” I said.

The words slipped out before I could pull them back.

“Then what do you want, Adrian?”

Silence. My knuckles tightened against the wheel.

The answer was carved into me, raw and shameful — you. Always you. Long before my brother ever noticed.

But all I managed was, “For you to follow the rules.”

She leaned back with a soft laugh, though her eyes flickered like she’d felt the weight behind my silence. “We’ll see.”

I let out a slow breath, dragging my gaze to the empty street ahead. Rules. Distance. Control. I clung to them like lifelines. But sitting there with her so close, the truth pressed harder than ever:

If I slipped—if I touched her even once—there’d be no undoing it.

And I wasn’t sure I wanted to undo it.

Nova reached for the door handle, her smile lingering like she’d already unraveled me.

“Goodnight, Mr Castellane,” she said, voice low and smooth, as if she knew the echo it would leave in my chest.

Before I could form an answer, she slipped out, heels clicking against the pavement as she walked toward the porch light glowing ahead. She didn’t look back—not once. That small, careless defiance cut sharper than anything she’d said in the car.

I stayed frozen in the driver’s seat, hands still on the wheel, watching her silhouette until the front door opened and swallowed her whole. The house went dark again, leaving me alone with the hum of my thoughts.

I should’ve driven off immediately. Should’ve rolled away without another second wasted. Instead, I sat there in the silence, pulse still thrumming from the ghost of her perfume in the air.

She had no idea what she was asking for. No idea how close I was to breaking every rule I’d just laid down.

For months, I’d kept my distance. Buried the instinct to look at her twice. The minute my brother stepped into the picture, I’d cut myself off cold, convincing myself it was the right thing to do. The only thing.

And now here she was, sitting in my car, daring me to claim her, to drag her into a game that couldn’t end clean.

I dragged a hand over my face, muttering a curse. I wasn’t really worried about teaching my brother a lesson anymore, although that was the end game. But…

The truth was uglier.

This wasn’t about him.

This was about her.

And I wasn’t sure I had the strength to keep pretending otherwise.