Chapter 7

The morning after their tense encounter, Isla told herself she wouldn't think about it.

Wouldn't think about the way Adrian had looked at her.

Wouldn't think about how his voice had slid over her like silk and steel.

Wouldn't think about how her body had betrayed her, reacting to a man she despised.

She had barely gotten any sleep the previous night. And when she had finally gotten some, her dreams had been plagued with the face of her husband.

Husband.

The word seemed foriegn to her.

She had to stop thinking about him. Maybe the day would pass quicker and she would finally be free.

But as she sat alone at the breakfast table, pushing her untouched croissant around her plate, she knew she was lying to herself.

She could still feel him.

Even though he wasn't here, his presence was everywhere.

And then, just as if her thoughts had summoned him—

He appeared.

Justt how much of a devil could this man be?

Adrian strolled into the sunlit dining room with the kind of controlled ease only a man like him could possess.

His navy-blue suit was tailored to perfection, his crisp white shirt open at the collar, revealing just enough tanned skin to be infuriating.

The sight of him made her angry, but not in the way she wanted to.

Her fingers curled into fists beneath the table.

He didn't acknowledge her immediately.

Didn't greet her.

Instead, he walked past her, and poured himself a cup of coffee, as if this were any normal morning.

Then, finally, he lifted his gaze.

And when those ice-blue eyes locked onto hers, Isla felt it like a blow.

"You'll accompany me tonight," he said smoothly, as if it were already decided. "The Sinclair Foundation is hosting a charity auction. We leave at eight. Be ready."

Accompany him? And why did he have to demand it from her like he had hired her as an escort from an escort service company.

Her back stiffened.

He had to be joking.

She lifted her chin, forcing her voice to stay even. "I never agreed to be your arm candy, Adrian."

His lips twitched. Not quite a smirk, but close.

She was beginning to know all his expressions, with each one more dangerous than the next.

"You agreed to be my wife," he countered, setting down his cup with deliberate slowness. "And as my wife, you'll stand beside me when I need you to."

Heat rose to her cheeks, a mix of anger and something she refused to name.

Who did he think he was? And who did he think she was, that she would just bow and agree to his every whim?

"And if I refuse?" she challenged.

Adrian exhaled a quiet laugh.

Not amused.

Not angry.

Just utterly, maddeningly in control.

Couldn't he just laugh like every ither person? Why did everything about him have to be so calculated?

"You won't," he murmured, his voice velvet and lethal.

He leaned forward, bracing his hands on the table, his gaze pinning her in place.

"Unless you want me to drag you out of here dressed exactly as you are now?"

Her breath hitched.

Oh, he was cruel.

Her silk robe barely covered her thighs, the memory of last night still thick in the air.

She should throw her coffee at him.

She should have learned from the previous night and worn something decent, but her tired mind hadn't been having any rational though for sometime now.

Like now, she should really tell him no.

Instead, she gritted her teeth and spat, "Fine."

Adrian straightened, victorious.

"Good girl."

Damn him.

~

By the time 8 PM arrived, Isla was dressed in the most ridiculously expensive gown she had ever worn.

The fabric clung to her in all the right places.

If she could say so herself, she reeked of money. Wealth.

Adrian had spared no expenses on her outfit.

Black silk, a deep V-neckline plunging dangerously low, a slit revealing her bare leg with every step.

It was stunning. And infuriating.

She should hate the dress, hate anything that connected her to him, but she had to admit she looked beautiful.

She had half a mind to rip it off and walk out in jeans.

Just to see the look on his face.

She could already see the steam coming out of his ears in anger if he ever walked in and saw her in jeans instead of the gown he had bought.

But the moment Adrian appeared in the doorway, she forgot how to breathe. Forgotten where her thoughts had been the minute before. "Adrian." She gasped impulsively. 

He was already watching her.

Dark gaze traveling over her slowly.

Measuring.

Approving.

It was like he was a damn lecturer, assigning scores to his student.

A muscle ticked in his jaw before he spoke.

"Perfect." His tone was deep, rich, and dangerously low.

She hated how those words sent a ripple through her skin.

Hated how he looked like he was barely restraining himself.

But most of all, she hated how part of her wanted him to break.

Whatever it was he was fighting with himself for, she wanted to see it.

Adrian stepped closer, his fingers brushing the delicate strap of her dress.

"Behave tonight," he murmured. "Or I promise, Isla… you won't like the consequences."

Her heart pounded.

What did he mean by that? And why was she suddenly having goosebumbs all over er body in a reaction to his words?

"Is that a threat?" she whispered.

Adrian's smirk was all danger, all promise.

"No, darling." His breath ghosted over her cheek. "It's a guarantee."

Then, offering his arm, he simply said—

"Let's go."

And Isla, despite every warning in her head, slipped her hand into his.

~

The event was glittering opulence. A ballroom filled with powerful men, striking women draped in wealth, and the intoxicating scent of money and desire.

This was her first time being in such environment, and for some reason, it didn't strike her as anything over the top, which was funny because she had dreamed to be in places like this. Especially eith her line of business.

Isla felt their eyes on her.

Whispers slithered through the crowd—

"She's the one he married?"

"Poor thing, she doesn't stand a chance."

"God, look at him. I'd sign a contract too."

Of course they were going to look down on her. She stood out, like a fucking rainbow umbrella in a barn filled with hay. She wouln't fit in, even if she trie harder.

Heat burned in her cheeks, but Adrian?

He was unshaken. Unbothered. Untouchable. Like he had no care in the world.

It was either he wasn't hearing them, or chose to ignore them.

His hand rested low on her back, possessive and firm as he led her through the crowd. Not to mention the heat that pured into her form that one touch.

"Relax," he murmured, lips close to her ear. "They already know you're mine."

A shudder raced down her spine.

She wanted to push him away.

Wanted to prove she wasn't his.

But as a tall, leggy brunette approached, her eyes shamelessly raking over Adrian, Isla felt something sharp and dangerous twist in her chest.

She didn't want to dwell on the emotion, didn't want to name it.

"Adrian," the woman purred. "It's been too long." Too long? Too long since what happened?

Her manicured nails brushed his sleeve, too familiar and comfortable. And teh fact that she did it, not minding that she, Isla, was standing right there.

And Adrian?

He smiled.

Not the dark, dangerous smirk he gave Isla.

Not the kind that set her on fire.

But a polite one.

Cold. Distant.

"This is my wife," he said smoothly, pulling Isla closer, his grip tightening.

The woman's eyes flickered over to Isla finally, like she had just noticed her.. But different emotions played in them. surprise, envy, curiosity.

"Oh," she said with a false smile. "How… interesting."

Isla barely heard her.

Because all she could focus on was the way Adrian held her.

The way he was claiming her in front of everyone.

The way, despite everything, a part of her liked it.

And that terrified her most of all.

Adrian made a sound, looking a way from the woman briefly, then back to her, before nodding his head again. "Yes. Very. Now if you may excuse us, I and my wife would like to meet some acquintances." 

And then he was steering her away, barely waiting for the other woman's response.