Pictures Of Adrien Agreste Novels & Stories

To my surprise, Maxen abruptly pulled back his hand while grinning from ear to ear. I looked at Adrian and he has that hard expression on his face. What's his problem anyway? "It's a pleasure to meet you in person, Miss Novell. I saw you in one of my friends' fashion show months ago. I wanted to approach you that time but it looked to me that you were busy with your boyfriend" Adrian snapped his head to my direction. His eyes were looking at me like he was asking me if that was true. I forced a smile. "It's a pleasure to meet you too, Mr. Argueza but I think you had the wrong idea. Maxime is just a friend"

I turned around and made a big mistake by looking up at him, I repeat big mistake. I swear Adriano had to be on the list of Greek gods, his chest and biceps were well to sculpted don't even get me started on his eight pack, he had an eight pack for Pete's sake and his skin was perfectly tanned even though he was a tad bit dark because of the Latin genes he inherited from his mum. My eyes went lower finding his tattooed torso and V that was visible since his sweatpants hang dangerously low around his waist. Damn I could only imagine my legs wrapped around his torso while his strong arms gripped my ass. Fuck

Not in the mood, Adrian grabbed the man’s wrist and twisted it. “I told you, I’m not interested,” Adrian said firmly, releasing the man’s wrist and walking out of the bar as if nothing had happened. Outside, he heard shouting as if there were a fight. He put on his hood and walked towards the commotion to see what was going on. He raised an eyebrow when he realized his hunch was right — there was indeed a fight, but it was a street race. Furthermore, he looked around, and his gaze landed on a group where he saw Emmett kissing a girl. Then he noticed a man with long hair and a beard. Adrian recognized the posture, it was Agustin, also kissing a girl while sitting on a motorcycle.

I whispered to myself. And then he was there,suddenly at my side, close enough that I caught the faint scent of pine and steel. “Hey,” Adrian said, his deep voice low and smooth. “Watch me.” He moved into the stance with effortless grace, muscles shifting under his training gear, every line of his body radiating controlled power. For a moment, the entire world narrowed to just him. My heart stuttered.

"Someone knew you were coming here tonight, Adrian," Nathan whispered, his voice dangerously tight. "I stepped out for exactly two minutes to get Raina a bottle of water from the machine. When I came back, this was sitting on the chair right next to her head." Adrian’s blood ran completely cold. He snatched the black envelope from Nathan’s hand, tearing it open. Inside was an old photograph from nearly a decade ago. It showed a young Adrian standing on the deck of a mega-yacht in Monaco, his arm slung casually around the shoulder of a handsome, dark-haired young billionaire with a dangerously charming smile.

Setting his jaw, he turned with a scowl. Adriana da Costa smiled up at him from a poolside cabana, where she was holding court in her tiny bikini. Five half-naked young men surrounded her, offering her food she would never eat in a million years. Xavier saw one particularly hapless youngster trying to tempt her with a platter of bread and cheese. Bread and cheese? Adriana’s idea of a fattening meal was menthol cigarettes and a handful of raisins. Lounging in her chair, she lazily stretched her skinny arm up over her wide-brimmed straw hat as she looked up at him. In her other hand, she was holding a glass of something that looked like water but was likely vodka on the rocks.

It had also been at sunset, also in the mountains. Adriana turned toward him. The moonlight carved his side profile into sharp, almost unreal perfection. His long lashes curved like whispers, veiling a hidden lake of mystery in his eyes. “What photo?” she asked. “Don’t pretend. I know you saw my tweet.”

A soft grunt escaped him. I stepped back just enough to get a proper look. And there he was. Adrien. The infamous brat. He didn't look scared. Not even close. In fact, he stared at me with clear turquoise eyes, wide open and unguarded. He was prettier than his photos suggested. The camera hadn't captured the fullness of his lips, the way his hair — a messy dark bun — framed his sharp jawline, or how ridiculously flawless his skin looked under the dim lighting.

If only I could see a picture of him without a shirt… maybe that would be enough. I moved closer to the nightstand and noticed a wooden drawer slightly open. I pulled it further, expecting nothing more than ordinary items. Instead, a stack of printed photographs slid out and spilled onto the floor. I knelt down, gathering them one by one. As my eyes fell on the images, my throat went dry. They were pictures of Adrian at the beach. His body was fully exposed under the sun, captured in sharp, effortless detail. Broad shoulders narrowed into a defined V at his waist, his abs etched and tightening with each pose as he stood shirtless in the sand.

It was pastel blue, rimmed with sugar, and garnished with a paper umbrella that’s already flipped sideways in the heat. Meanwhile, Adrien was beside me. He laid flat on his stomach, his skin glowing with sunscreen and an afternoon light. His back was a canvas of sun-kissed skin. I rolled to my side to face him, tracing the scattered freckles along his shoulder with my eyes. Fifty-seven, they were. Well, at least until when I could count them and before I got distracted by the way one disappears beneath the edge of his waistband.