For a while, I enjoyed visiting art galleries and perusing their collections, trying to find the perfect reproductions to place on his walls. It was fun while it lasted, but unfortunately, it ended all too quickly. Being his right hand turned into being his personal assistant. I organized cocktail parties, did his scheduling, and was even able to do some graphic design. To my surprise, I found that I liked it. I enjoyed the freedom of working for him, and every look of pride on his face when I accomplished even the measliest of tasks sent a thrill of satisfaction through me.
It was only the first time when I questioned him that the other side of Adrian appeared.
I remember every single moment as if it were yesterday. He walked into the master bedroom, his skin damp and glistening from his morning shower. His back was to me, his muscles rippling and hard, begging to be touched. A sigh escaped my lips as my eyes wandered down his body, and I mentally wished for the towel to drop. He’d been out of town for the past week, and it’d been even longer than that since we’d last slept together. I was starving for him, craving his touch, needing his strong body to cover mine as he slid his delicious, hard cock inside me, fucking me hard until he made me come with his name on my lips. I needed the intimacy, to know he still desired me. Still loved me.
He turned to me, a gleam in his eye. “I didn’t mean to wake you, Gabriella,” he said as his eyes roamed my naked body. It was how he requested I sleep—even when he was away. Usually, it was so he could wake me in the most sensual way, but last night, he’d forgone that, apparently. “Go back to sleep.”
A frown formed on my face as I grasped the sheet and sat up, reaching a hand out, hoping to entice him into our bed. “I don’t want to sleep, Adrian. I’ve missed you.”
He had the decency to look torn as he glanced from the bed to the clock on the nightstand. “I’ve missed you, too, sweetheart, and I promise to make it up to you, but I have to get to the office to tie up some loose ends from this trip. Tonight, I’m all yours.”
With that, he turned and walked back into the bathroom, shutting the door to me. Not wanting to pout or go back to sleep, I hopped out of bed and decided to make myself useful. I entered our massive walk-in closet and began to unpack his luggage, sorting his clothes in piles—one I could wash and one that needed to go to the dry cleaner. I was humming along when I pulled out a white dress shirt and tossed it into the laundry pile. As I did, I noticed a red spot on the sleeve and another on the collar. Dread washed over me, and my mind jumped to conclusions—the same ones any woman’s mind usually would in this scenario.
Lipstick.
With trembling hands, I leaned over and picked it up, forcing myself to bring the offending material to my face for further inspection.
It wasn’t lipstick.
It was something worse.
The crimson stain was blood.
I wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or terrified. Why the hell would Adrian have had blood on his shirt? Had something happened to him?
Calm down, Gabriella, I thought. Perhaps he nicked himself shaving. Yes, that must be it. My nerves calmed ever so slightly until my eyes fell back on the spot on his sleeve. It would explain the collar, but not the rest.
I have no idea how long I stared at the shirt, trying to muster up the courage to go into the bathroom to ask him what had happened, but deep down, I don’t think I wanted to know. Eventually, he came in to dress, stopping in his tracks when he spotted me holding the shirt. He muttered a curse then let out a deep sigh, one more of annoyance than anything.
“Going through my things, sweetheart?” he asked. I was aware that it was one of his pet peeves, so I should have known better.
“No, Adrian, I wasn’t,” I protested quickly. “I just wanted to get a head start on your laundry so I could wash, dry, and steam what I could and then drop the rest off at dry cleaning. I saw this, and I thought . . .” I said, trailing off, not wanting to actually say the words out loud.
“You thought what?” he asked, his voice low yet remarkably calm.
“I thought it was lipstick,” I admitted, letting out a deep breath and looking down at the floor, ashamed I’d have even had such a thought. Was blood better than lipstick? I didn’t even want to entertain the question.
Adrian crossed the room, his long legs swiftly bringing him to me. His thumb and forefinger nudged my chin until I was looking up at him. I couldn’t quite read his expression. It was a mixture of amusement and humor with flashes of anger I thought he was trying to mask but wasn’t doing a magnificent job of it.
“I once told you that you’d never be one of many. Do you believe me a liar now?” he asked with a stern voice, almost daring me to call him such a thing even though we both knew better. Or so I thought at the time.
I shook my head, still ashamed as I remembered the day he’d told me that I’d be his one and only. He might have had mood swings from time to time and spent many a late night out, but he’d never given me reason to believe he’d strayed before.
“Use your words,” he insisted, again reminding me of that first day he’d told me that I’d be only his. Those three words sent a shiver down my spine.
“No, Adrian,” I whispered. “You’ve never lied to me. I don’t believe you’d start now.”
“You don’t believe?” he challenged, arching an eyebrow.
“I know,” I was quick to amend. “I know you wouldn’t lie to me. Plus, it’s not lipstick. I never should have believed it was.”
His eyes flashed, and I instantly regretted my words. “What is it, then?” he asked as if he didn’t know. It was another invitation to challenge him.
His demeanor was one of a calm man, but his eyes were menacing, and I’d never seen him like that. Adrian’s always been a mystery, but this new interrogative man? I didn’t recognize him.
“Bl-blood,” I choked out, setting my chin and not allowing my gaze to falter even though I wanted nothing more than to break our connection. I didn’t wish to see the truth in his eyes.
“Do you want to know what it’s from?” he asked, his eyes boring down into mine, his expression unreadable.
Did I? Of course I did, but at what cost? He smiled villainously at my hesitation and gave me a quick, curt nod of approval, before I could even respond.