Chapter 336

Adrian hadn't been listening to the music.

His attention had wandered, fixated on the delicate slope of Vivian's neck. Desire coiled low in his stomach, and he shifted closer, settling beside her on the piano bench.

His arm slid around her waist, fingers tracing idle patterns against her skin. His voice was rough, barely above a whisper. "Do you like it?"

Vivian remained still for a beat before answering softly, "I do."

"How are you going to thank me?" he murmured, lips grazing the shell of her ear. The suggestion was unmistakable.

She turned, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. It wasn’t for the piano—it was for the company shares. Without Adrian’s intervention, she never would’ve secured them so effortlessly. Dawson Enterprises would’ve collapsed before she could gather the resources to save it.

"Thank you," she said quietly, an uncharacteristic sincerity lacing her words. "For helping with the company, too."

Her unexpected gratitude seemed to catch him off guard. He studied her, his hand lingering possessively on her waist.

"Let’s go upstairs," Vivian whispered, leaning into him.

Though desire burned beneath his skin, Adrian hesitated. Gwendolyn was still in the house, and he wasn’t one for an audience. Instead, he exhaled sharply, lifting Vivian effortlessly into his arms and carrying her upstairs.

That night, she surprised him.

Her movements were tentative, unpracticed, but there was an earnestness in her touch that Adrian found unexpectedly intoxicating. She fumbled, yet the quiet determination in her gaze stirred something deeper within him.

For once, Adrian restrained himself. Gone was his usual commanding demeanor, replaced by a rare patience and tenderness. The night unfolded differently—slow, deliberate, and strangely intimate.

Afterward, Vivian lay sprawled across the bed, her body limp with exhaustion. Her arm draped over the pillow, cheek pressed against the cool fabric. Damp tendrils of hair clung to her flushed face.

Adrian sat beside her, bare-chested, his presence radiating quiet dominance. He lit a cigarette, the flicker of the flame briefly illuminating his sharp features. Smoke curled lazily from his lips as his gaze settled on her.

The sight of her—vulnerable and unguarded—sent a ripple of satisfaction through him.

Vivian stirred slightly, her nose wrinkling at the faint scent of smoke. She’d always hated the habit, but watching him now—his movements deliberate, unhurried—she couldn’t deny the way it suited him. It twisted something in her stomach, a feeling she refused to name.

"Why did you suddenly change your mind about the reality show?" he asked, exhaling a slow stream of smoke.

Vivian blinked, momentarily caught off guard. It wasn’t surprising that he knew—Adrian had the means to uncover anything he wanted. What startled her was that he cared enough to ask.

In the past, even if she’d told him outright, she doubted he would’ve reacted.

"The show approached Blackwood Group for sponsorship," he said casually, as if reading her thoughts. "Your name came up in the guest list."

What he didn’t mention was the truth—that he’d specifically instructed Ethan to investigate her schedule after hearing whispers of her reconsideration. Upon confirming it, he’d personally ensured Blackwood Group would sponsor the show. But he wouldn’t admit that. Saying it aloud felt dangerously close to begging for her acknowledgment. He preferred she read between the lines.