Picture Of Adrien Agreste Novels & Stories

I came back with sweatpants and a normal shirt. When I was coming down the stairs, I immediately and silently stopped in my tracks. Adrien was currently walking around the living room, looking at my family's pictures that were framed for everybody to see on a small shelf on top of the stone-like furnace. He looked so innocent looking at each of my photos framed there, he looked at them one by one, with a sweet but neutral face. If I hadn't known he was an obnoxious jock, I would have thought he was a sweet guy. But sadly he is an obnoxious and egocentric jock. Makes me wonder where is the big bad wolf demeanor he had at school.

I waited for the couple to return, but they were stopped by relatives who wanted photos. My stomach suddenly growled in hunger. Thankfully, the music playing in the hall was loud enough to cover it. I hadn’t eaten anything since morning. I’d only been drinking water because I had been too busy earlier. “Miss Lopez?” I flinched slightly and turned to Miss Callisto. At the same time, I noticed Adrien sitting beside her. He looked serious, his gaze fixed on me, wearing a formal black tuxedo with a white polo shirt inside, black necktie and pants. His hair was brushed back neatly.

He sat boldly upright, showing rare seriousness while selecting invitation designs. Seeing that retouched photo on TV, I blurted out: "Adrian, are you serious about this?" "Yes." His unhesitating answer struck my heart like thunder. My cheeks burned—I didn't dare ask more. Until I noticed the small mole on his nose bridge. Many socialites had said Adrian was not only devastatingly handsome, but this mole was the finishing touch. I reached out to touch it but was caught by his elegant fingers. The man's voice was dangerously husky:

Adrian said calmly. Aria crossed her arms. “This should be interesting.” Adrian continued speaking. “I imagine you're wondering why I let you leave the penthouse alive tonight.” Valentino’s expression remained cold. Adrian smiled slightly. “It’s simple.” He leaned forward toward the camera. “I want you to understand something.” Adrian reached to the side and lifted something into view. A photograph. Valentino’s eyes narrowed instantly. It was the same photo from the folder. The one with the missing face.

And I I'm just here, lonely with nothing to fight back with at the moment. Just a secret growing in my womb that I couldn't tell anyone about. I scrolled through the messages. I deleted so many, ignore some till I get to a certain number. An unknown number. I almost deleted it automatically. But something made me open it. And then I saw a photo. My breath caught. Adrien's picture. Sitting in a room I didn't recognize. It was cleaned, well-dressed, and much better than what I had expected. And in the background, barely visible, Miguel's silhouette.

I caught my breath, my heart hammering against my ribs, and turned around. Adrien was standing there in running gear. Half of his face was still submerged in the pre-dawn shadows, making him look even more mysterious. “Dr. Adrien?” I stammered, stunned. He didn't smile. He just looked at me with that signature deadpan expression before dropping the line: “Eighty euros.”

I groaned as I got out of Aria’s bed deciding to head to my own room when the doorbell rang. I frowned wondering who it was at this time of night, and the fact they had been let through the front gates meant it was someone I knew. I walked down and checked the camera screen near the door. Adrien Sorrentino, a friend of Warren’s who also worked for the El Nazari company. I smoothed out my shirt and opened the door. “Adrien, what a surprise.” He smiled gently and held out a box of chocolates. His curly black hair falling over his forehead and his dark brown eyes were full of warmth. I accepted the box.

she whispered, her voice filled with both fear and love. "I can't ask you to go through with this. We'll find another way, I promise." But Adrien gently shook his head, his gaze rigid. He retrieved a pocket knife from his pocket, its glint reflecting his unwavering determination. With a steady hand, he pressed the blade against his palm, allowing a shallow cut to form. Droplets of crimson blood welled up, cascading down his palm, poised to merge with Lisa's injured flesh.

But how is Mr Altamira related to my Dad and my late grandmother? "No, I've never seen him before. I have never even heard of that name before." I lied. "Okay, one minute……." he brought out his phone from his pocket and searched for only God knows what. Scrolling down his phone he showed me a picture of Adriano shirtless posing for Christan Dior. "This is him." 'Oh my god, he's so hot, he looks very delicious. He looked like a Greek God with those six pack abs and that shiny wavy raven hair.

At that moment, across the ocean, Adrian studied the photo in his hand, a sly smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. The woman in the photo was strikingly beautiful, nothing like the typical plastic-surgery-enhanced faces of influencers online. It was no wonder his half-brother had fallen so hard for her.