Chapter 8 - Adrian

I leaned back against the study chair, my eyes fixed on the faint flicker of the desk lamp. The mansion had grown quiet, but my thoughts roared louder than ever. Iris's laughter still lingered in the corners of the house, an echo that should have felt warm but instead clawed at my insides.

I liked her—I couldn't deny it. The little girl had a charm that was impossible to ignore, the kind of innocence this world had no right to steal from her. But her presence... her presence was a thorn in my mind. A constant reminder that Seraphina had moved on. Maybe, in those seven years, she had found someone else.

I clenched my jaw, the thought slicing through me like a blade. No. She couldn't have. I didn't believe it. Seraphina wasn't someone who let just anyone into her life, let alone her heart. But the doubt... it crept in, unwelcome and persistent.

Iris's existence made me wonder. She was a child Seraphina fiercely protected, and that meant something—maybe everything. Was there someone she trusted enough to bring into her world? Someone she loved enough to call the father of that little girl?

I slammed my fist onto the desk, the sound reverberating through the room. My rationality tried to reason, to remind me that Iris wasn't hers by blood. That much was clear. But even so, her presence shifted the ground beneath my feet. It made me question things I had no right to question.

Had I been too late? Had someone else given her the peace I couldn't?

I closed my eyes, exhaling slowly, forcing the storm in my mind to settle, even if only for a moment. I couldn't afford these distractions, not now. Not when I had her back under my roof. The past didn't matter—what mattered was now.

But no matter how much I tried to convince myself, the truth burned in my chest: Iris wasn't just a child. She was a symbol of everything I feared. A reminder that Seraphina's life had moved forward while I had been stuck in the same place, longing for something I'd lost.

And as much as I hated to admit it, that terrified me.

The invitation had been an unavoidable nuisance. A business party where we were to represent our respective companies—it was nothing but a battlefield in expensive suits and fake smiles. I had little patience for these events, but appearances mattered in this world.

I stood at the foot of the staircase with Nick by my side, waiting. He leaned casually against the wall, occasionally glancing at his watch.

"She always takes this long?" Nick teased, smirking as he looked up the stairs.

"She can take all night for all I care," I muttered, feigning indifference. But my foot tapped against the marble floor, betraying my impatience.

"She's going to make you eat those words," he said, his smirk widening.

Before I could retort, I heard the faint click of heels echoing down the staircase. I stilled, turning toward the sound. And then she came into view.

Seraphina.

She descended the staircase with an effortless grace that turned the grand staircase into her personal runway. The emerald-green dress clung to her in all the right places, shimmering subtly under the chandelier's light. Her hair cascaded over one shoulder, framing a face that seemed carved by the gods.

I blinked, unable to stop myself. Nick's snicker barely registered as I clenched my jaw, pulling myself together.

"You're staring," Nick whispered, amused.

"Shut up," I growled under my breath.

As she reached the bottom step, her gaze met mine. Those eyes, sharp yet inviting, held a challenge I couldn't ignore.

"Well?" she said, raising a brow. "Are we going, or are you going to keep gawking all night?"

I smirked, finding my footing in her provocation. "I'm just trying to decide if the party can handle you."

She rolled her eyes, brushing past me toward the door, the faint scent of her perfume trailing behind her.

Nick let out a low whistle. "You're in trouble, my friend."

I adjusted my tie, shaking off the moment. "Let's go before she burns the place down without us."

Even as we stepped into the car, her image burned in my mind like an unshakable truth. Tonight was going to be interesting.

The room buzzed with shallow conversations and the clinking of glasses. It was one of those parties where everyone pretended to be cordial, yet the tension of competition lingered just beneath the surface. I was used to it. These were my people—calculated and ruthless.

But tonight, my focus wasn't on them.

It was on her.

Seraphina moved through the crowd like she owned the room, her emerald dress drawing every eye. She wasn't just beautiful—she was power wrapped in elegance, and everyone knew it.

The music shifted to something slower, softer. A dance.

I watched as one of the men—some CEO or another—approached her, bowing slightly and offering his hand. My jaw tightened. She hesitated for a fraction of a second before glancing at me.

Challenge accepted.

Before she could even consider taking his hand, I was there, stepping between them. "I believe this dance is mine," I said, my voice low but firm.

The man blinked, flustered, then backed away with a polite nod.

Seraphina raised a brow at me, amusement flickering in her eyes. "Jealous, are we?"

I ignored her jibe, taking her hand and pulling her gently onto the dance floor. "I'm just saving you from a boring dance partner."

She scoffed but didn't pull away as I placed a hand on her waist, drawing her closer. The scent of her perfume hit me again, intoxicating and maddening all at once.

"You don't even like dancing," she said, her tone teasing.

"I don't," I admitted, guiding her effortlessly with each step. "But I'll make an exception tonight."

The moment my hand rested on her waist, I felt the warmth of her bare skin beneath my palm. She had chosen a backless dress tonight, a bold emerald green number that clung to her frame in all the right ways. My hand froze for the briefest of moments, but I quickly masked it, sliding it into position as if I wasn't acutely aware of every single point of contact between us.

Her gaze flicked up to mine, a glint of challenge in her eyes. She had to know what she was doing.

"Regretting your decision already?" she asked, her voice smooth yet teasing.

I leaned in slightly, just enough so she could feel the warmth of my breath near her ear. "Not a chance."

Her steps faltered for a fraction of a second, but she recovered quickly. Of course she did—this was Seraphina. She didn't break, no matter the situation.

The music played on, slow and steady, and I guided her across the dance floor with precision. My fingers flexed slightly on her waist, and I couldn't help but notice the slight hitch in her breath. Was she feeling this too?

"You're tense," I murmured, my lips barely moving as I spoke.

She scoffed softly. "It's probably because your hand is practically burning a hole into my back."

I couldn't help the smirk that tugged at my lips. "Is that a complaint, Sera?"

Her eyes narrowed slightly, but she didn't pull away. Instead, she adjusted her hand on my shoulder, her fingers brushing against the edge of my neck. It was subtle, but the touch sent a jolt of electricity down my spine.

"Do you always talk this much during a dance?" she shot back, her tone laced with sarcasm.

"Only when I'm dancing with someone who doesn't know how to relax," I replied smoothly, pulling her just a fraction closer.

The warmth of her skin beneath my hand was maddening. The soft curve of her waist, the faint scent of her perfume, the way her body moved in perfect sync with mine—it was intoxicating.

"You're impossible," she muttered under her breath.

"And yet, here you are," I countered, my voice low and full of amusement.

The song slowed even further, and for a brief moment, everything around us faded. It was just her and me, the faint sound of music, and the undeniable tension crackling in the space between us.

Her head tilted slightly, and our eyes met. I couldn't look away, even if I wanted to. There was something in her gaze—defiance, vulnerability, and something else she refused to acknowledge.

"You're staring," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

"Maybe," I said, my lips quirking into a faint smile. "Can you blame me?"

Her cheeks flushed faintly, though she quickly masked it with a scoff. "You really think you're charming, don't you?"

I leaned in just enough to make her breath hitch again, my hand brushing lightly against the curve of her lower back. "I don't think, Sera. I know."

The song ended, and I reluctantly loosened my hold on her, though I didn't step back immediately. Neither did she.

For a heartbeat, we stood there, close enough to feel each other's warmth, close enough to hear the unspoken words hanging in the air.

Then she stepped back, her expression guarded once again. She smoothed her dress and turned away, heading toward the bar without another word.

I watched her go, my hand still tingling from the contact, and a single thought echoed in my mind.

I was in trouble.

The faint hum of conversation and clinking glasses around me blurred the moment I saw him approach her. A tall man with an easy smile and the kind of confidence that came from years of familiarity. He wasn't just anyone—I could see it in the way she smiled back at him, genuine and warm, a kind of softness she didn't show to just anyone.

Then he hugged her.

It was casual, effortless, as if they'd done it a thousand times before. His arms wrapped around her slender frame, pulling her closer than necessary, and she didn't step back.

The glass in my hand nearly cracked under the pressure of my grip.

"Adrian." Nick's voice snapped me out of my spiraling thoughts. He leaned against the bar beside me, his tone amused. "You look like you're about to murder someone. Careful—you're supposed to be blending in tonight."

I didn't respond, my eyes glued to the scene across the room. The man—whoever he was—was still too close, his hand lingering on her arm as they talked. She was laughing, a soft, genuine laugh that twisted something deep in my chest.

"Who is he?" I asked, my voice colder than I intended.

Nick followed my gaze, then shrugged. "How would I know? Probably some old friend. She doesn't seem like the type to—"

Before he could finish, I slammed my glass onto the bar and started walking toward them. Nick cursed under his breath but didn't try to stop me.

As I approached, the man was saying something that made her laugh again, her head tilting back slightly. The sound was light, musical, and completely out of place in my current state of mind.

"Seraphina." My voice cut through the conversation like a blade, and both of them turned to look at me.

Her smile faltered for a moment, replaced by a flicker of annoyance. "Adrian," she said, her tone clipped.

The man beside her raised an eyebrow, clearly assessing me. He extended a hand, his smile polite but wary. "You must be Adrian. I've heard a lot about you."

I ignored his hand, my eyes locked on Seraphina instead. "Who's your friend?"

She crossed her arms, her posture defensive. "This is Ethan. We went to school together. He's an old friend."

"Old friend," I repeated, my tone flat as my gaze shifted to Ethan. "Must be some history for her to still find you so entertaining."

Ethan chuckled, though there was an edge to it. "She's always been entertaining. You'd know that if you paid attention."

The audacity. My jaw clenched as I fought the urge to punch the smirk off his face.

"Adrian," Seraphina warned, her eyes narrowing. "Don't."

I ignored her, taking a step closer to Ethan. "You seem to think you know her pretty well."

"I do." Ethan's tone was calm, but his stance shifted slightly. "But I'm starting to think you don't."

That was it. My hand twitched, and I was seconds away from making him regret every word when I felt a sharp tug on my arm.

"Enough." Seraphina's voice was firm, her fingers gripping my sleeve. She stepped between us, her back to Ethan as she glared up at me. "Adrian, stop it. Now."

Her touch was enough to ground me, if only slightly. My eyes flicked down to her hand before meeting her gaze.

"You don't just let anyone hug you like that," I muttered, my voice low enough for only her to hear.

Her expression softened for a brief moment before hardening again. "He's a friend, Adrian. That's all. Don't make this into something it's not."

I didn't believe her, not entirely. But the fire in her eyes was enough to make me step back—for now.

Ethan cleared his throat behind her, his smile smug. "It was nice seeing you again, Sera. Take care."

She turned to him, her smile returning, though it didn't reach her eyes. "You too, Ethan. Goodbye."

As soon as he walked away, I turned to her, my anger simmering just beneath the surface.

"Next time," I said, my voice low and cold, "tell your 'friends' to keep their distance."

She rolled her eyes, brushing past me. "You're unbelievable."

I watched her walk away, my fists clenched at my sides.

This wasn't over—not by a long shot.