Adrian's Pov:
The quiet hum of the refrigerator fills the kitchen. Lucia hasn't arrived yet. She usually always comes in late on Thursdays.
I hear soft footsteps approaching, but I don't look up right away. I already know it's her.
She stops at the entrance once her gaze lands on me, then starts turning to leave, but I stop her.
"You're already here. Just get what you came for," I say, with a steady voice.
She hesitates, but walks in anyway, taking slow, measured steps that make it clear that she'd rather be anywhere else.
She doesn't say a word. Not even a good morning.
Making her way to the cabinet, she pulls out a glass and fills it with water. She won't even look at me.
Interesting.
She's probably still pissed about last night. I can sense a bit of defiance neatly tucked behind her silence, and it intrigues me.
I drop my cup of coffee on the counter and study her openly. The curve of her neck as she drinks, the way her hair falls over her shoulders, all the way to her waist.
Her nightie stops mid-thigh, exposing tanned, smooth legs, and I can't help but wonder if all her nighties are this short.
My mind wanders, unwillingly, to the first day I saw her. Until then, I had only seen pictures of her, when I found out I'd be marrying her. But words can't even begin to describe how beautiful this woman is.
It's a fact I can't even deny. She looked like she was not of this world, and she's doing everyone she comes across a favor by gracing them with her presence. Even me.
That gown she wore. Every curve of her body outlined under the lights. She had stood there with those wide, brown, innocent eyes, not knowing that she had me lost in them, until I had to pull myself back.
I'd felt something stir at that moment. Attraction. But it was laced with irritation. Did she always dress like that around other men?
My memory shifts to when I had my lips on top of hers. I don't know what I felt in that moment, but I had never felt something like that before. I've kissed many women in my life, hundreds even. But I've never come across softer lips.
The way my hand fit perfectly around her neck. The way she tasted. I wanted to devour her right then and there. I wanted to taste her with my tongue and explore all the inches of her mouth, but I had to pull myself back when I remembered that we were in front of the church. Not that I cared much though.
Everything about her seems to affect me in ways I can't understand. And then yesterday, when I saw her in that ridiculous pair of too-short shorts, unaware of how dangerous that combination was in front of a man like me.
She makes me think things I shouldn't, feel things I can't explain. And we've only been married for how many days? And plus the fact that I'm barely ever even around her.
I knew she was going to be trouble the day I went into her room and didn't feel like leaving again.
The sound of the cabinet closing brings my attention back to the present.
"There's an outing tonight," I say before she can disappear.
She stops but doesn't turn around. "What kind of outing?"
"It's dinner with business associates."
"Since you're telling me, it means I have to go, doesn't it?" Her tone is clipped.
"You do." That gets me a small glance over the shoulder. I can sense she wants to say more. I can smell the defiance brewing within.
"Okay," is all she says.
My gaze narrows. "I'll have people bring you a few dresses this afternoon," I add. "Pick any, and be ready by seven."
"Of course, husband." Her smile is forced, and the sarcasm in her voice is very obvious.
"Is that all? Or are there more wifely duties you want me to perform?" she says in that sweet, annoying voice.
I clench my jaw, not wanting to indulge her.
"Lucia won't be early today. There should be food in the fridge, or you can make something if you want to eat anything."
She doesn't say anything. Just walks out without another word.
I take a last sip of my coffee, before dropping it and heading out, suddenly annoyed.
Hours later, I'm at my desk. The glow of the laptop screen reflecting off the black marble surface.
The meeting with the Castellani group is set for later this week, but the reports in front of me are already giving me a headache. Supply chain delays, border disruption, a mole in one of the docks…all things that should have my attention.
But my focus keeps slipping.
Back to her. To the little brown-haired girl in my home. To her voice.
The intercom buzzes. "Sir, delivery for Mrs. Moretti. Dresses and accessories, along with a new phone as requested."
"Let Lucia handle it," I add. "Keep me posted on new updates."
"Yes, sir."
I lean back in my chair, my fingers drumming against the armrest.
Yesterday, security called. Told me they found someone trespassing in my room. Turns out it was my wife. The little devil was sneaking around.
They called to confirm if they should respond, but told them not to call again, if it wasn't important. She's my wife. Her being in my room doesn't pose a threat to anyone.
After much deliberation, I tap on the surveillance app, and the feed comes alive. I find her, standing beside Lucia in the hall.
They look through a couple of dresses, agreeing and disagreeing with a few.
She brushes her hair back, shakes her head, and turns to say something. Lucia laughs at whatever she said.
Something about the sight sits heavy in my chest like a weight I can't shake off.
I shut off the feed.
Loosening my tie, I lean back in my seat. Even if I try, my mind still wanders back to her. To the quiet rebellion in her eyes.
I tell myself it's only natural, as she's my wife. But even I know that's not all it is.
And as the clock inches closer to evening, one thing is for certain. When she walks into that dinner tonight, every man will notice her. And the thought of it unsettles me more than I'm willing to admit.
By the time I drive back to the house, it's already dark. I had changed into a new suit in one of my hotels, so I wouldn't waste more time when I got home.
I'm waiting in the hall, when I hear the sound of soft heels clicking on the stairs.
Elena descends the stairs with measured steps, and for a moment, I forget how to breathe. She's wearing a silk dress that's the color of deep, rich wine. It isn't overly revealing, but the slit that runs up her thigh flashes smooth skin with every descending step.
The spaghetti straps and the neckline...low enough to draw eyes, but also high enough to leave space for restless imagination.
Her hair falls in soft waves, and her makeup is light. I'm glad, because she doesn't need it. She's beautiful enough without it.
"I'm ready," she says as she descends the last stair.
"Good." My voice comes out a bit throaty. "Let's go."
*****
The quiet chatter of conversations greets us as we step into the restaurant. Five couples are seated round the long table, all familiar faces.
My eyes find Elena. Her gaze sweeps over the room, and I can tell she's a bit nervous from the way she squeezes her hands together.
"You don't need to say anything. Just smile, and the rest will be fine."
She looks up at me, but doesn't say anything. She barely has since yesterday.
We join them at the table, exchanging pleasantries as we take our seats.
As expected, attention follows her like a spotlight. She smiles gracefully, politely, but I can tell there's something devious hidden under those smiles.
Everyone eats their meal, while exchanging some form of small talk. Domenico Gonzalez, who's seated by my side, tries to engage me in a conversation but my attention is solely on my wife, who's currently talking to Mateo Alvarez.
A long-time business associate…and one of the most careless men I know.
The way she laughs after every sentence he speaks makes my blood boil. His god-damned mistress is by his side, but he doesn't see the need to acknowledge her, instead, he's fully engrossed in his drunken conversation with my wife.
Another soft laugh fills the space. My jaw ticks, and if I keep pressing them together like this, I might crack my teeth.
I ignore the sharp coil in my gut, and down my wine like it will wash away the feeling, but this time, the both of them burst out laughing.
If I'm correct, Matteo is the least funny person I know. He's old, and too arrogant to know when to shut his mouth. And I thought Elena wasn't talking?
As if on cue, she glances at me for a brief second and I can see the defiance in her eyes, before she turns back to Matteo. Is she doing this shit on purpose?
I refill my glass, and take another swig, hoping I'm wrong.
But then, Matteo smirks at me. "You know, Mr. Moretti," his voice is loud enough for the others to hear. I knew the man was wasted when he started talking to Elena in the first place.
"I didn't think marriage would suit you, but I see why you gave in." he slurs.
The room stills. A few men chuckle under their breath, while the women whisper to each other.
"Mmm. And why is that, Matteo?" My tone does nothing to hide my annoyance.
"I mean…with a wife like that," he gestures at Elena, "even the coldest men will bend."
My glass meets the table with sheer force, and Elena stiffens beside me. I look up, meeting his eyes with calm precision.
"Watch your mouth, Matteo."
He raises both hands in the air, laughing it off. "Relax. I'm just appreciating beauty."
His gaze meets Elena again, looking her up and down, and then he has the audacity to lick his fuckin lips.
"But I can't lie though," he smiles sheepishly. "I wouldn't mind doing her. She's a real–"
My hand reaches him from across the table before he can complete that sentence.
Anger floods me instantly. The fact that he thinks he could speak about my wife like that in front of me. In front of her!
"I swear to God, you're a lucky man, Matteo," I seethe. "You're lucky that I haven't already put a bullet through that stupid head of yours." I tighten my grip on his neck and he grips my hands as he fights for air.
"Adrian…" I hear Elena's soft voice call out my name but all I see now is red.
"Speak about my wife like that ever again, and I swear I'll rip your tongue out, and feed it to the dogs. And since you have no control over your dick, I'll stick it up in the same dog's ass and you can fuck it however you want since you're so horny, right?"
"A–adrian, please," he begs.
With much hesitation, I push him away and he falls out of his chair, trying to gather his breath. His mistress rushes over to him, to help him up.
My attention goes back to Elena. I grab her arm, forcing her out of her seat, and dragging her outside with me.
"Adrian…wait, stop!" She struggles but I don't care. Once we're outside, I let go of her.
"What was that back there, huh?" I try to keep my voice level, so I don't yell at her.
"What was what?" She bites back.
A small laugh escapes me. Is this really what we're doing?
"Do I look stupid to you, Elena? What was going on with Matteo? The laughs, the smiles, you enjoyed yourself that much, yeah?"
"I did!" She snaps. "Besides, I was just being polite. He started talking to me first, all I did was respond. And he was also funny, so I laughed. I don't know why you're making a big deal out of it!"
My eyebrows raise. Am I insane, or am I being gaslighted right now?
"Elena." I close my eyes, trying to calm myself.
"What? I didn't do anything wrong, Adrian, you're being unbelievable right now."
"Matteo would never have said those things about you if you hadn't given him the freedom to do so."
She doesn't say anything.
"Listen to me carefully, Elena. You carry my name now, so everything you do affects me. I won't sit down and watch my wife be disrespected by another man."
Her lips press into a thin line, and she looks away. But I see the faintest hint of regret on her face.
I weave a hand through my hair, and let out an exasperated sigh. I don't lose control. Ever. But when it came to her, I didn't think twice before I made a move.
The only reason I didn't kill Matteo then and there, is because I remembered how she trembled on our wedding day. It wouldn't have been best if I had brought out my gun in front of her.
But it doesn't mean I'm finished with him either.
I walk over to the car and open the door. "Get in."
She listens without hesitation.
The ride home is silent. The kind of silence that says a lot without having to use your words.
This woman is the first person that's been able to make me slip. To lose control. Act out of the ordinary. It's not something I do. I'm always calculated. I think, before I act. That's another reason why I'm pissed.
But a small, reckless part of my mind tells me that I'd let myself lose control over and over again for her, and the thought of it unsettles me more than anything.