Chapter 142
The unspoken tension between them still lingered, amplified by the constant comments about how perfectly Vivian and Sebastian complemented each other. Though Adrian knew Vivian only saw Sebastian as a brother figure, an insidious doubt crept into his mind—what if someone who truly understood her essence came along? Since their wedding day, Vivian had become more than just his wife in Adrian's eyes. The devotion in her gaze marked her as his alone.
Yet Vivian had transformed into a radiant, independent woman who commanded every room she entered, no longer existing in Adrian's shadow. The realization pricked at his nerves like thorns. With a sharp turn, Adrian stormed toward the bathroom, hoping the steady stream of water would wash away his growing frustration.
Thirty minutes later, even as Adrian towel-dried his hair, the cold shower did nothing to cool the heat coursing through his veins. The evidence of his arousal remained stubbornly present. Pushing open the bathroom door mechanically, he froze mid-step.
The bedroom, once brightly lit, now lay bathed in the dim glow of a single wall lamp. His corporate instincts kicked in immediately—the business world was a battlefield, and he knew all its treacherous games.
His gaze swept the room, finding it deceptively calm at first glance. Then his eyes locked onto the shadowy corner where a slender figure sat silently on his bed. Relief flickered briefly—just a woman, seemingly harmless.
The memory of tonight's business dinner surfaced, making him suspect this might be some executive's misguided attempt at negotiation. "Get out now!" His command echoed through the room as he reached for the light switch.
"Mr. Blackwood, please—it's me." The reply came in a trembling whisper, laced with nervous anticipation.
As light flooded the room, Penelope scrambled awkwardly off the bed, crossing her arms over her chest in a futile attempt at modesty.
Her sailor-style dress clung to her curves, the flimsy fabric leaving little to the imagination. A deep blush spread across Penelope's cheeks as she lowered her eyes, though she couldn't resist stealing shy glances at Adrian.
Adrian stood motionless, his bare torso glistening with residual water droplets, a towel hanging precariously low on his hips.
The water trails from his damp hair traced paths down his sculpted chest and along the defined ridges of his abdomen, disappearing into the towel's fabric.
The noticeable bulge beneath the towel sent an electric thrill through Penelope, warming her from within.
She barely registered the storm brewing in Adrian's eyes, too focused on one exhilarating realization—the way his body reacted to her presence, the tension in his stance—he couldn't hide his arousal.
Adrian's brows knitted together as he grabbed his robe, shrugging it on with sharp movements.
Penelope's gaze burned with unmistakable invitation, saturating the air with palpable tension.
He moved to the sofa, sinking into its plush depths with practiced grace, and took a deliberate sip of water—a silent command for her to recognize her cue to leave.