Chapter 6 - Adrian

The moment I heard the sound of a child's laughter echoing through the mansion, I knew something was off. This house wasn't meant for laughter—it thrived on tension and the occasional outburst, courtesy of Seraphina. Yet here it was, a soft, innocent giggle that seemed so out of place it felt almost surreal.

Curiosity tugged at me, and I made my way to the grand hall. There she was—Seraphina, standing stiffly next to a woman I recognized from the files Nick had handed me. Lyra, her secretary and apparently her best friend. But it wasn't the sight of them that stopped me in my tracks. It was the little girl at her side.

A child.

She couldn't have been older than six or seven, with bright, curious eyes that darted around the room as if taking in every detail. She had Seraphina's fire, I could tell, though her features were softer, untouched by the world's cruelty.

I leaned casually against the doorway, observing. Seraphina noticed me immediately—her body stiffened, her hand subtly nudging Lyra as though she could push her and the child out of the room through sheer willpower. The little girl, however, was oblivious to her mother's panic.

She turned her wide eyes on me and tilted her head. "Who's this handsome man?" she asked, her voice filled with the kind of innocent boldness only children could pull off.

Handsome, huh? The corner of my mouth twitched, but I didn't say anything. I wanted to see how Seraphina would handle this.

Seraphina's face turned an interesting shade of red—not the kind that hinted at affection, but the kind that screamed I'm going to kill someone. She crouched down slightly, her voice low and controlled. "Iris, don't say things like that. He's... just a person I know."

Just a person she knows.

The words rolled around in my head, each one sharper than the last. I couldn't help but let out a quiet laugh, making sure it was loud enough for her to hear. Her eyes darted toward me, a mixture of irritation and panic flashing in them.

"Just a person you know?" I echoed, pushing off the doorway and walking toward them. "That's a bit dismissive, don't you think, Sera?"

"Adrian," she said through gritted teeth, her voice laced with warning.

I ignored her and crouched down to Iris's level. She looked at me with the same curiosity she'd shown before, completely unbothered by the tension radiating from her mother.

"I'm Adrian," I said, offering her a small smile. "And who might you be, little lady?"

"I'm Iris!" she chirped, grinning.

"Well, Iris, it's very nice to meet you," I said, straightening up. "Though I have to admit, I'm a little surprised to find someone as cheerful as you in this house. Your mom's not exactly known for her sparkling personality."

"Adrian," Seraphina snapped, stepping in front of Iris as if to shield her from me. "That's enough."

I met her glare with a smirk. "Relax, Sera. I'm just making conversation."

Her jaw tightened, and for a moment, I thought she might actually hit me. Instead, she turned to Lyra, her voice low but sharp. "What were you thinking bringing her here?"

Lyra shrugged, completely unfazed by Seraphina's tone. "She wanted to see you, and I thought it would be good for her to meet the man of the house."

"The what of the house?" Seraphina hissed, her eyes darting between Lyra and me.

I couldn't help but laugh. Lyra was either very brave or very stupid—either way, I liked her.

Iris tugged on Seraphina's sleeve, her voice cutting through the tension. "Mama, is he your friend?"

I raised an eyebrow, waiting to see how she'd answer that one. Seraphina opened her mouth, closed it, and then opened it again, clearly struggling to find the right words.

"No, Iris," she finally said, her voice tight. "He's not my friend."

Ouch.

I leaned closer to her, my voice low enough that only she could hear. "Not a friend, huh? I'll have to work on that."

Her glare could've burned a hole through steel, but she said nothing. Instead, she took Iris's hand and started to lead her toward the stairs, leaving me standing there with a smirk on my face and the distinct feeling that this house was about to get a lot more interesting.

I watched Seraphina as she tried to escape up the grand staircase, her hand firmly clasped around Iris's small one. She was stubborn as always, thinking she could waltz through life on her terms, even when the rules had changed entirely.

"Where do you think you're going, Sera?" I called out, my voice calm but firm.

She paused mid-step, her back stiffening as though the sound of my voice physically grated against her. Slowly, she turned, her eyes sharp with defiance. "To my room. Where else?"

"Wrong," I said, stepping toward her with deliberate slowness. "You'll be staying in my room from now on."

Her brows furrowed, and she let out a disbelieving laugh. "You're joking."

I stopped a few feet away from her, my expression cold and unamused. "Do I look like I'm joking?"

Her grip on Iris's hand tightened, her protective instincts flaring up as they always did. "You can't just dictate where I sleep, Adrian."

I tilted my head, a ghost of a smirk tugging at the corners of my lips. "Actually, I can. In fact, I already have. Iris has her own room now. I've had the maids prepare it for her."

Her face fell for a moment—just a flicker of uncertainty before she masked it with her usual fire. "She stays with me."

"No, she doesn't," I said, my voice dropping lower. "She stays in her room. And you stay in mine. End of discussion."

She turned fully to face me, fire blazing in her eyes. "You're delusional if you think I'm agreeing to this."

I sighed, pulling the gun from my holster and casually wiping it with a cloth. I didn't look at her as I spoke, my tone as calm and measured as ever. "Sera, I don't think you understand how things work here. You don't get to refuse me."

Her gaze flickered to the weapon in my hand, and I could see the wheels turning in her head. I wasn't pointing it at her, but the implication was clear. She knew what I was capable of, and she knew I never made empty threats.

"You're unbelievable," she spat, her voice shaking with anger.

I finally looked up, meeting her glare with a cool, steady gaze. "And yet, here we are."

For a moment, I thought she might lash out—throw one of her infamous tantrums or try to physically shove past me. But instead, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, as if trying to steady herself. When she opened them again, the fire was still there, but it was contained, controlled.

"Fine," she said through gritted teeth. "I'll stay in your room."

I allowed myself a small, satisfied smile, holstering the gun and stepping aside. "Good choice."

She didn't say another word, just turned and marched up the stairs with Iris in tow. I watched her go, the corners of my lips still curved upward.

She could fight all she wanted, but in the end, she always came around. This wasn't just about control—it was about making her see that her life, her choices, were no longer hers alone. Not while I was around. And especially not while she wore my ring.

I watched Seraphina walk into the room, her eyes scanning the pristine space with a mix of disdain and disbelief. The room was immaculate, everything in its place, and I took pride in that. My world was controlled, structured. Even my living space reflected that.

She tossed her bag onto the bed without a care in the world, the zipper ripping open as she shoved it aside. I winced slightly, the disorganized mess spreading across the room, a chaotic contrast to the orderliness I had worked hard to maintain. I couldn't help but sigh, running a hand through my hair.

"Seriously?" I asked, crossing my arms as I leaned against the doorframe. "This is how you plan to live in here?"

Seraphina didn't look up as she rummaged through her bag. "I'm not here for a neat-freak contest, Adrian," she muttered, tossing a few more items onto the floor without even glancing at them.

"Clearly." I shook my head, walking over to the bedside table where her half-empty coffee cup sat, a stray lipstick lying next to it. "I'm starting to think you were raised by a tornado."

She shot me an irritated glance but didn't respond. Instead, she kicked her shoes off and tossed them in the general direction of the closet. One of them landed halfway across the room, but she didn't even flinch.

"You really don't care about organisation, do you?" I asked, my tone both exasperated and intrigued.

"Why should I? It's just a room, Adrian," she said, half-turning toward me as she flopped down on the bed and sprawled out like she owned the place. "It's not like it's some museum exhibit. If you want perfect order, maybe you should stay in a sterile box somewhere."

I watched as she continued to make herself at home, tossing blankets and pillows in every direction. I stepped forward, picking up a stray magazine from the floor and placing it back on the table in a precise spot. "I like my space organized. You know, so it's easy to find things."

"Find things?" she echoed with a smirk. "Like your precious coffee mug?" She picked up the mug off the table and pretended to take a sip from it, her eyes glinting mischievously. "Tell me, Adrian, how does it feel to have everything so perfectly... boring?"

I narrowed my eyes. "Not boring. Just efficient."

She threw herself back onto the bed, throwing her arms up dramatically. "Well, efficient is just another word for 'completely boring.'"

I sat on the edge of the bed, eyeing her carefully. "You know, you'd be much more efficient if you spent less time throwing things around and more time organizing."

She chuckled and kicked her feet in the air, completely unfazed by my comment. "And you'd be a lot less uptight if you just let a little mess in. Life isn't about being perfect, Adrian. It's about living."

I leaned closer, my voice dropping a little. "You know, it might be more pleasant to live in a clean space than a cluttered one."

"Oh, please," she shot back, rolling her eyes. "You make cleaning sound like an Olympic sport. Do you dust every corner of this room every day?"

I grinned. "Not every corner, but I do like to keep things in check." I picked up a pair of her discarded shoes and set them neatly by the closet. "You could learn a thing or two."

She snorted, raising her hands in mock surrender. "Fine, fine. I'll try not to destroy your pristine little world... for now."

I raised an eyebrow. "For now?"

She smiled, sitting up on the bed with a playful glint in her eyes. "Yeah, for now. But no promises about tomorrow."

I shook my head but couldn't help the amused chuckle that escaped me. "You're a real piece of work, you know that?"

"Thank you. I try," she said with a wink, and I couldn't help but feel a little tug at my heart. Despite the mess, despite the chaos she brought, there was something... magnetic about her. Something I couldn't shake, even if I tried.

She stretched out on the bed again, making herself comfortable as if it was hers. "Now, tell me—how long before you start re-organizing all the things I've thrown around?"

I leaned back against the desk, crossing my arms. "If you don't stop, I might just start with you."

She smirked. "Bring it on, Adrian."

We fell into a quiet, easy silence. The tension between us never fully gone, but in this moment, it was just... us. Messes and all.