Chapter 260

Adrian leaned in, his lips grazing her cheek before settling near her ear. His breath was warm, carrying the faint scent of sandalwood and spice. "Play for me," he murmured, his voice rough and intimate in the small space between them.

Vivian's pulse spiked. Normally, she would have refused outright, but the intensity in his dark eyes left her flustered. She took a step back, pressing a hand against his chest to create distance. "What do you want to hear? I'm not a concert pianist. I only know beginner pieces—and that song from Beatrice's birthday."

The mention of his grandmother's celebration made his lips twitch in amusement. "If someone had asked for another song that night," he teased, "wouldn't your little secret have been exposed?"

"Move." She nudged his foot with hers.

Adrian stepped aside, watching as she pulled out the piano bench and sat down. She glanced up at him, posture poised but with a defiant glint in her eyes. "No one did," she said simply.

He chuckled, leaning against the wall beside her with effortless ease. "Then play that one."

Vivian's fingers hesitated over the keys at first, testing a few notes before finding their rhythm. The melody flowed smoothly, her movements graceful and deliberate, as if she were performing for an unseen audience.

The golden glow from the window cast soft light across her features, highlighting the concentration that made her almost ethereal.

Adrian's gaze drifted, lingering on the slight forward tilt of her posture before dipping lower. He stiffened, a strange mix of guilt and fascination tightening in his chest.

He forced himself to look away, but something—some invisible pull—drew his attention back to her.

The music swelled, then faded, the final note hanging in the air like a whispered secret. Before she could rise, Adrian stepped forward. Without a word, he lifted her onto the piano.

Vivian's breath caught, panic stiffening her limbs as she tried to push him away. His lips crashed against hers, insistent and demanding, his tongue sweeping past her defenses with relentless hunger.

Her resistance only seemed to spur him on.

"Not here," she managed, her voice muffled against his mouth.

To Vivian, the piano wasn't just an instrument—it was a connection to her grandfather, a symbol of his legacy. The thought of tainting it with this moment made her stomach twist.

Adrian pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, his eyes dark and burning. "You agreed to this," he reminded her, voice rough with need.

Before she could argue, he scooped her into his arms effortlessly, leaving no room for protest. He carried her to her bedroom.

The room was simple but warm, shelves lined with vintage book posters and the bed dressed in floral sheets that smelled faintly of lavender.

Adrian set her down gently, his body hovering over hers. She stared up at him, eyes wide with nervous energy, lips slightly parted as she struggled to steady her breathing.

In the soft light, her vulnerability shimmered—fear and reluctant anticipation making her all the more irresistible.

Her thoughts raced. How had they gotten here? How had things escalated so quickly? Yet the idea of stopping now felt like a lie.