Chapter 19: Tell Me How to Make You Forgive Me

“Adrian, get up.”

Rosalie walks over and pushes his shoulder.

He doesn’t react.

“Come on. You’re going home.”

She grabs his arm and pulls. Adrian looks lean in a suit, but moving him is like trying to drag a stone wall. After several attempts, he remains sunk in the sofa, eyes closed.

Her patience snaps. She kicks his shoe.

“If you don’t get up, I’m leaving.”

Lucas starts to greet her, thinks better of it, and closes his mouth. Evan quietly moves farther down the sofa. Neither man wants her anger turned on him.

Adrian still doesn’t move.

Rosalie turns toward the door.

“Rosie.”

A hand closes around her wrist.

His grip is remarkably strong for a man who is supposedly drunk.

Rosalie takes a slow breath before facing him. “Get up. Your driver is waiting downstairs. The sooner you leave, the sooner everyone can go home.”

Adrian finally opens his eyes and holds out one hand.

“Help me.”

Something about his damp blue eyes makes him look unfairly pitiful.

Rosalie folds her arms and stares at him. In the end, she gives him her hand.

He rises easily this time.

Too easily.

Before she can question it, Adrian sways toward her. His hand catches her waist, and he slowly sinks to the marble floor at her feet.

“Adrian!”

Evan jumps up to help. Adrian turns his head and gives him one perfectly clear look.

Evan stops.

The knees of Adrian’s tailored trousers rest on the cold marble. He never glances at Lucas or Evan, though both men have gone silent.

Adrian wraps both arms around Rosalie’s waist and presses his face against her stomach.

“Rosie.”

His voice is rough.

“Why won’t you answer me?”

Rosalie looks down at him without speaking.

“Are you still angry?” His hold tightens. “Tell me how to make you forgive me.”

That is when everyone understands: the drunken collapse is an act. The plea is not.

Adrian Mercer, the man who bows to no one, is kneeling at a woman’s feet in front of his closest friend and his assistant, holding her as though pride is the least important thing in the room.

Lucas cannot bear it.

“Adrian, get off the damn floor!”

He drops his glass and strides toward them. Evan closes his laptop, catches Lucas by the arm, and steers him toward the door.

“You’ve had too much to drink, Mr. Grant. I’ll get you home.”

“Let go of me!” Lucas twists around. “Adrian, I’m embarrassed for you!”

“Mr. Grant, you’ve never even managed to define your own relationship. Perhaps sit this one out.”

Lucas stops struggling.

The remark lands exactly where Evan intended. His anger fades, and he allows himself to be taken into the hall.

Once outside, he pulls his arm free. “Fine. Call me a car.”

The door closes again.

Only Adrian and Rosalie remain.

She looks down at the man still holding her. “You pretended to be drunk so I would come?”

“Would you have come if I hadn’t?”

His answer is shamelessly honest.

“You’re childish.” Rosalie pushes his shoulder. “Get up.”

Adrian refuses. “Tell me you forgive me first.”

“How long are you going to keep doing this?”

Anger sharpens her voice. Adrian watches her for a moment, then slowly loosens his arms without letting go.

“I’m sorry, Rosie.”

Her hand stills against his shoulder.

“I owed you that apology five years ago.”

His eyes are red now, and the whiskey has nothing to do with it.

Rosalie’s throat tightens.

She always told herself she had moved on. She never expected an apology because expecting one would mean admitting how badly she once needed it.

“My family is the one that owes you an apology,” she says. “Adrian, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t.”

He cuts her off at once.

“Never apologize to me.” He looks up at her. “I only want you to forgive me.”

Rosalie falls silent.

Adrian waits, but the answer never comes.

His arms gradually loosen. He lowers his head, and the hope in his eyes dims.

Perhaps she truly cannot forgive him.

Perhaps they were always meant to end unfinished.

“Adrian.”

Rosalie lowers herself in front of him and puts her arms around his shoulders.

“Please stop punishing yourself.”

And let me go too.

His body goes rigid.

“We can’t return to what we were,” she whispers against his shoulder. “But we can stay in each other’s lives. We can talk, have dinner, be friends for as long as you want.”

She hesitates.

“We can even kiss. We can sleep together.”

Adrian’s arm locks around her waist hard enough to hurt.

Rosalie closes her eyes and forces herself to continue.

Five years have carried them too far from the people they were. She is no longer the girl who would follow Adrian anywhere simply because he held out his hand.

She cannot promise him a future.

Adrian remains silent for a long moment.

Then he rises.

One arm circles her back, the other slides beneath her knees, and he lifts her from the floor.

“Where are we going?” she asks.

“Home.”

He carries her toward the door with renewed purpose.

“You said we could kiss and sleep together,” he reminds her. “No taking it back.”

Rosalie stares at him.

Is it too late to change her mind?

Adrian opens the door and carries her toward the private elevator. His driver is already waiting downstairs.