Chapter 192

Adrian spun around, his stormy gaze darkening to midnight. "What did you just say?"

"What the hell are you doing?" Vivian snapped.

Her jaw set like tempered steel as she enunciated each word. "I said we're passing the family court. Let's get this divorce finalized today. No point prolonging the inevitable."

The car screeched to a halt so abruptly that only her seatbelt kept her from hitting the dashboard.

Adrian's knuckles whitened around the steering wheel, the air between them thickening with unspoken tension. The irony wasn't lost on him - discussing divorce mere hours after their first night together.

When he remained silent, Vivian arched a perfectly sculpted brow. "Problem, Mr. Blackwood? This was the agreement. Having second thoughts? Or was last night your maiden voyage?"

"Don't be ridiculous."

She'd expected nothing less. Given his undying devotion to Serena, virginity had clearly been sacrificed long ago. Not that it mattered now. Nothing did.

"Then we're done here," she said, ice coating every syllable. "Let's wrap this up. I know how precious your time is."

The leather seats creaked as Adrian shifted, his profile carved from marble. After an eternity, he ground out, "Courthouse is closed."

Vivian tapped her phone screen. "It's barely five. They're open."

"I don't have the marriage license," he countered, his voice colder than a midwinter storm.

Her laugh held no mirth. "Since when do we need paperwork to end this farce?"

Adrian's lips twisted into something resembling a smile. "Eager, aren't we?" He nodded toward her device. "Google it yourself."

She checked the time again, undaunted. "Plenty of time. We can swing by your penthouse - what's that, three minutes? Or better yet, call Gwendolyn to messenger it over—"

The insistent buzz of his phone cut through her words like a guillotine.

That saccharine voice oozed through the speakers before he'd fully answered. "Adrian..."

Vivian's spine straightened at Serena's unmistakable purr.

Adrian kept his eyes fixed on the traffic ahead. "What's wrong? Are you hurt?"

"Just lonely," came the breathy reply. "I found this divine little bistro overlooking the harbor. Join me for dinner?"

"On my way." The call ended before Vivian could blink. He turned to her with clinical detachment. "I have prior commitments. You'll need to arrange your own transportation."

For three heartbeats, Vivian simply stared. Then, with a derisive snort, she unbuckled the seatbelt and stepped onto the curb. The door slammed with finality as she leaned down for one parting shot through the glass.