CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

Maxen

It had been an hour now, and Adrian still hadn't come downstairs. I was trying not to let my restlessness show, but apparently, I wasn't being subtle enough.

"Maxen, dear," Angela said gently, her voice laced with amusement, "don't worry. His father won't kill him in there. They're probably laughing about the people who spread those pictures."

Her reassurance eased me a little, though I still felt a tightness in my chest.

"So… your café is called Home Welcomes You?" she asked, tilting her head. "I still can't believe you named it that—but I like it."

I chuckled. "Oh yes. The idea is that wherever people go for coffee, it should feel like home."

She smiled brightly. "It's a great concept. I'll definitely bring Gideon there for one of our coffee dates."

"Oh honey, are you planning another date I don't know about again?" Adrian's father teased, his voice warm, his eyes crinkling with affection as he looked at her.

Adrian entered then, quietly taking his place beside his father. He looked at both his parents and shook his head with a soft smile. They were completely caught up in a staring contest—the kind only people deeply in love could have.

I felt a pang in my chest—love truly has no formula. Whether old or young, the intensity could be the same if you found the right person.

I turned to look at Adrian, only to find he was already looking at me. In his eyes, I saw it—love, steady and determined. Without hesitation, I walked over and hugged him tightly. We both wanted this kind of love. The kind his parents were living.

"Boys, please," Angela said, her tone teasing. "I don't want to have nightmares about your love-making."

We laughed, gently untangling ourselves, and Adrian turned to his parents, still holding my hand.

"Mom, Dad, we'll take our leave. It's already late. I'll bring him by another time."

"No, no—that's not happening," Angela said firmly. "You're both staying the night. I want us to have a proper family breakfast in the morning."

I looked at Adrian, and with a small nod, I let him know—I was okay with that.

"But you won't be sleeping in the same room," Angela declared with playful sternness.

"Mom, we're not in the '90s," Adrian replied with a groan.

"Oh dear, my house, my rules."

She turned to me, her tone suddenly soft and sweet. "Maxen, don't worry. You'll have the most peaceful sleep, with no disturbances."

"Okay, Angela," I replied with a small smile. Adrian looked at me in disbelief, but I just smirked and winked at him. He shook his head like he couldn't believe I'd just surrendered that easily.

"Julie is preparing the guest room for you—here," Angela added, then looked at Adrian. "And you, go sleep in your wing. See you both tomorrow."

"Dad, really?" Adrian protested, turning to his father. "Don't you want your privacy tonight?"

His father simply shrugged with a chuckle, the unspoken message clear: What my wife says, goes.

I couldn't help laughing at the sight of Adrian's mock defeat. Angela, unfazed, began leading me toward one of the guest rooms.

Just before we reached the door, I paused and turned to her.

"Please... can I stay in the guest room in Adrian's wing instead? Today has really been a rollercoaster, and I just want to be near him—even if it's not the same room."

She blinked, slightly surprised. Then, without a word, she pulled me into a hug.

"Okay," she whispered. "You really are a gem."

Then she leaned back, giving me a knowing look. "But don't go back on your word. Don't let him lure you into his room."

"Thank you," I said sincerely.

As we turned the corner, Adrian and his father were approaching us.

"I told you," his father said to him, grinning, "your guy's something else—he actually managed to negotiate with your mother."

We exchanged goodnights, and then Adrian led me quietly toward his wing of the house.

As we approached the west wing, I could already sense it—it had to be Adrian's. It just felt like him. The energy was different from the rest of the mansion, more personal, more grounded. Still grand, but with subtle touches that whispered Adrian.

When we stepped inside, my suspicions were confirmed. Everything was neat and tastefully arranged, the decor refined yet comfortable. It had his signature all over it—soft neutrals, clean lines, quiet strength.

"I'm happy you like my taste," Adrian said, watching my reaction closely.

I nodded, offering a small smile.

"I'll give you a proper tour another time," he added. "But for now, I'm going to run a bath so we can unwind from the day."

He led me to a doorway, then turned toward me.

"This is my room," he said, gesturing behind him. "And the one opposite is yours for tonight. But…" His voice dipped a little lower. "We'll take our bath in mine."

He was standing so close now—too close. I could feel his presence radiating off his skin, the warmth of him curling into my space like an invitation. His eyes didn't move from mine, not even once.

Somewhere in the shift from banter to quiet, a change had settled between us. The atmosphere had softened—grown heavier with unspoken longing. We'd laughed. We'd survived. But what we needed now wasn't humor or negotiation. It was each other.

I could feel his breath brush over my lips—soft, warm, steady. And in that moment, the pull between us wasn't something I could resist.

I closed the distance.

My lips met his—tentative at first, like asking a question without words. But Adrian didn't hesitate. He answered with a soft sound in his throat, and his hands reached up, one brushing the side of my neck while the other rested gently at my waist.

He kissed me like he had all the time in the world, slow and deep. The kind of kiss that made my knees weaken and my heartbeat stumble. The world outside the two of us faded. There was only the quiet hush of the hallway, the flicker of warm light on the walls, and the soft press of mouths learning each other again.

When I deepened the kiss, his lips parted willingly, and I felt him melt into me—utterly present, completely mine in this breathless, vulnerable moment.

He murmured against my lips, "I've been waiting all night to do that."

We didn't rush it.

It wasn't about urgency. It was about closeness. About grounding ourselves in something real after a long, chaotic day. About saying everything we couldn't in front of others with just one lingering touch.

When we finally pulled back, our foreheads rested together, our breathing uneven. Neither of us said a word.

We didn't need to.

Because in that silence, we'd already said everything that mattered.

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TO BE CONTINUED...

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Next updates: Monday at 7:30 PM GMT. Adjust for your local time!

WEEKEN TEA

This weekend, I want to leave you with something soft—something real.

We spend so much of our time holding things in: the chaos of our days, the weight of being strong, the fear of needing someone too much. But tonight reminded me that it's okay to lean into love. To crave closeness. To admit, even silently, that we don't want to be alone.

Let yourself rest near someone who feels like home. Let your heart breathe.

And if love comes wrapped in quiet, in gentle hands and warm glances—it's still love. Maybe even the best kind.

Take a deep breath this weekend. You deserve peace, softness, and someone who meets you with steady eyes and unspoken understanding.

With warmth,

💜Maxen