Chapter 9: A Kiss Isn’t a Contract

The first thing Adrian did after I kissed him was ruin the moment by smiling.

Not a small smile.

Not something dignified.

He looked so pleased that I had to put my palm over his face.

“Stop that.”

His laugh warmed my hand.

“I’m trying.”

“You’re failing.”

He kissed the center of my palm.

I pulled it away and stared at him.

Apparently, once encouraged, he became a public nuisance.

We ended up sitting on the edge of his bed. I kept my boots on, which seemed like a sensible way to prevent the evening from becoming something I hadn’t thought through.

Adrian noticed.

He didn’t comment.

His knee rested against mine, and for once, neither of us pretended the contact was accidental.

“Can I take you to dinner?” he asked.

“We just ate.”

“Another night.”

I looked at him.

He was asking properly. No invented emergency. No room reserved for an imaginary pet.

“I’ll think about it.”

His smile softened rather than disappearing.

“All right.”

That answer made it harder not to agree immediately.

I went home anyway.

I needed to sleep in my own bed and discover whether I still wanted to kiss him without expensive bedding and excellent lighting assisting the process.

By morning, I had my answer.

It was inconvenient.

Adrian returned to work three days later.

His specialist had cleared a reduced schedule, and Grace had arranged a second security employee for the larger events. The stalker investigation was supposedly ready for review.

I was waiting for that report.

I was also waiting for the revised contract.

In the meantime, Adrian sent messages.

A photograph of the body pillow occupied my phone during breakfast.

It was sitting on his sofa with my name written on a piece of paper beside it.

I replied that identity theft was a serious offense.

He sent back: It’s doing a terrible job. It hasn’t criticized me once.

I smiled into my coffee.

My mother noticed.

I blamed a gym video.

She didn’t believe me, but she enjoyed the lie enough to leave it alone.

At the studio, Adrian arrived in a dark suit for wardrobe tests. His face looked composed until he saw me.

Then the same private warmth appeared.

I understood it now.

That was both satisfying and alarming.

He stopped beside me.

“Did you sleep?”

“Better than your replacement.”

“He’s very quiet.”

“Give him a raise.”

Adrian leaned closer, but I held up the schedule.

“Wardrobe first.”

He sighed theatrically and went where I pointed.

I watched him walk away.

His assistant watched me watching.

That was when things started going wrong.

Ben handed me a coffee.

“Glad you two worked things out.”

I took the cup.

“What makes you think that?”

“Adrian hasn’t looked that happy in months.”

It was a harmless observation.

Then he added, “I figured you’d appreciate some time alone.”

I looked at him.

“What?”

He adjusted the strap of his bag.

“After the plaza. Before you called Grace.”

“You didn’t answer.”

“I was driving at first.”

“And afterward?”

His expression became careful.

“You kept calling.”

“Because Adrian was ill.”

“I didn’t know that yet.”

I set the coffee down.

“What did you think was happening?”

Ben looked past me toward the dressing rooms.

I stepped into his line of sight.

“Answer the question.”

He exhaled.

“I thought he’d finally told you how he felt.”

“So you decided the calls didn’t matter.”

“He’d been talking about you for weeks. I thought you were both—”

“You thought.”

The words came out quietly.

That seemed to worry him more than if I’d shouted.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

I stared at him, remembering myself walking those two blocks with the phone pressed to my ear.

He had treated it like an awkward date.

I had been wondering whether Adrian was lying unconscious somewhere.

“You don’t get to make that decision for me.”

“I know.”

“Make sure you remember it.”

Adrian emerged from wardrobe before Ben could answer.

He looked between us.

“What happened?”

“Your assistant has interesting ideas about answering his phone.”

Ben spoke first, explaining in a rush.

Adrian’s face hardened.

“Don’t do that again.”

“I won’t.”

“And don’t assume I want help arranging Cole’s personal decisions.”

I almost relaxed.

Almost.

Then Ben said, “I thought it was like the social posts. Helping things along.”

Adrian went still.

I turned toward him.

“What social posts?”

He asked for somewhere private.

I agreed because the corridor had too many ears, not because I intended to let him choose the conversation.

Inside the dressing room, I stayed standing.

Adrian closed the door.

“Tell me.”

He looked at the sofa where I’d slept.

Then at me.

“I asked someone to post a few things after the airport video.”

“The stories.”

“Some comments. One short piece.”

The room felt warmer.

I remembered sitting at my table, horrified and curious, reading about a version of us I thought strangers had invented.

“You had someone write about me?”

“I thought it might make you consider the possibility.”

“That you were an alpha?”

“That we could be together.”

I stared at him.

He looked ashamed.

Good.

He should have.

“You told me not to be upset if I saw something.”

“I know.”

“You sent me looking for it.”

“I hoped you’d look.”

I rubbed a hand over my mouth.

The kiss hadn’t disappeared from my memory. Neither had his face afterward.

Now I had to fit this beside both.

“What else?”

He didn’t answer.

I let the silence continue.

Eventually, he said, “The building had identified the person following me before I asked you to stay.”

I lowered my hand.

“How long before?”

“The afternoon.”

“The afternoon you told me you were waiting for details.”

“They’d restricted the visitor’s access. I hadn’t seen the full report.”

“But you knew they’d handled the immediate problem.”

He nodded.

I looked at the closed door.

It wasn’t locked. I knew that.

I still wanted to open it.

“You let me check every entrance.”

“You would have wanted to check them anyway.”

“That is not an answer.”

He flinched.

I hated that I noticed.

I hated that part of me still wanted to soften my voice.

“Did you need me to stay,” I asked, “or did you want me to stay?”

“I wanted you.”

There it was.

At least it was finally plain.

Adrian stepped toward me.

I raised a hand.

He stopped.

“I didn’t fake being ill,” he said. “I didn’t expect the cycle to start.”

“I believe that.”

Relief moved across his face too soon.

“It doesn’t change the rest.”

He looked down.

I took the coffee Ben had handed me and put it on the counter. I didn’t want anything in my hands.

“I like you,” I said.

His head lifted.

“I kissed you because I wanted to. Not because you were sick. Not because you helped my sister. Because I liked standing in your kitchen and listening to you complain about carrots.”

His expression softened.

I kept going before it could persuade me.

“But every time I start trusting something, I find out you’ve arranged another piece of it.”

“I was afraid you wouldn’t give me a chance.”

“So you kept taking choices away until it looked like I had.”

He didn’t argue.

For once, that made me sad rather than satisfied.

Outside, someone called for wardrobe.

Adrian ignored it.

I couldn’t.

It was his job.

It was mine, too.

“I’m finishing today’s shift,” I said. “Grace and I need to review the contract before anything else.”

“Cole, please.”

“I’m not quitting because I’m angry. I’m also not pretending a salary means you get access to me.”

“I never thought that.”

“Then you should have made it easier for me to know.”

His eyes shone, and I looked away.

I wasn’t going to punish him for being upset.

I wasn’t going to let it change what I needed either.

At the door, I checked the corridor.

Clear.

I stepped aside so he could pass.

He paused beside me, close enough that I could smell his ordinary cologne.

The same scent I’d begun associating with warmth, coffee, and the way he said my name when nobody else was listening.

“Was any of it real for you?” he asked.

I turned toward him.

“All the parts I chose were.”

His face tightened.

I held his gaze.

“I wanted you, Adrian. That doesn’t mean I trusted you.”

Then I opened the door and returned to work.