Fake Date, Real Fate

ADRIEN’S POV

ɴᴇᴡ ɴᴏᴠᴇʟ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀʀᴇ ᴘᴜʙʟɪsʜᴇᴅ ᴏɴ NovᴇlFire(.)nᴇt

Of all the goddamn times.

I shut the bedroom door—harder than I meant to.

For a moment, I didn’t move. Just stood there.

Just stood there. The tension coiled through my spine like a pulled wire. I could still feel her skin under my hands, still hear the sound of her voice—soft and breathless against my throat.

Then came the knock.

I ran a hand down my face once, forcing the weight off my shoulders.

I took the stairs two at a time, jaw clenched so tight it hurt. Thomas better have a damn good reason for interrupting. And Clara? If she so much as breathed the wrong way, I was going to lose the last shred of patience I had left.

Thomas stood at the base of the stairs, looking like he wanted to be anywhere else.

"She’s in the drawing room," he said.

I nodded. "Has she said what she wants?"