Chapter 515

The scent of jasmine lingered in the air as Adrian paused mid-step. He lifted his sleeve to his nose, frowning slightly. "Perfume?" His expression cleared as realization dawned. "Ah, right. Penelope came to speak with me before I left Emberglow. Must have picked it up then."

He gave Vivian one of those infuriatingly charming smiles. "That nose of yours should be registered as a weapon. We stood a good three feet apart - how did you even catch that?"

"Penelope?" Vivian's fingers stilled on his tie.

"Walter Holloway's daughter," Adrian explained, his voice carefully neutral. "The one who arranged your team's stay at the inn during the Emberglow shoot."

Recognition flashed across Vivian's face, followed by a smirk. "Oh, her. The girl you had midnight rendezvous with."

"I didn't go to her," Adrian corrected, his voice dropping to that dangerous octave Vivian knew too well. "She came to me."

Vivian made a show of adjusting his collar. "Semantics. The end result's the same, isn't it?"

Adrian's gaze turned glacial. "Choose your next words carefully, Ms. Hartley. The Blackwood Group retains excellent libel lawyers."

Vivian shrugged, unfazed. "What's the worst that could happen? A slander suit? I'll just plead temporary insanity."

In one fluid motion, Adrian scooped her up, carrying her into the penthouse. He deposited the takeout bags on the marble counter before pinning her against the sofa, his face mere inches from hers. "The courts are backlogged enough. I'll handle this... misunderstanding personally."

Noticing the housekeeper hovering near the kitchen, Vivian shoved at his chest. "Alright, alright! I take it back!"

Adrian arched a brow, mimicking her favorite retort. "Apologies after the fact are worthless."

Realizing she'd walked into that one, Vivian switched tactics. She let her lashes flutter, her voice dropping to that breathy register she knew he couldn't resist. "Adrian... I'm starving."

He exhaled through his nose, the fight leaving his shoulders. "Ask whatever you want. Just stop inventing scenarios."

"Words leave deeper scars than knives," he murmured, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

Vivian ducked her head, adopting her best contrite expression. "I know."

Only then did Adrian release her, straightening his suit jacket. "Your hands are filthy." He caught her wrist, leading her toward the powder room. "Wash up before you eat."

As she trailed behind him, Vivian marveled at how effective feminine wiles could be. No wonder Serena had kept Adrian wrapped around her finger for years.

At the sink, Adrian worked the soap between her fingers with surprising gentleness, ensuring every trace of dirt disappeared down the drain. He even patted them dry with a monogrammed towel afterward.

Vivian let him fuss, then casually dropped the bomb. "So what did Penelope want? Another love confession?"

Adrian's hands stilled for a fraction of a second before resuming their task. "No." The hesitation told Vivian everything she needed to know.

She pouted, extracting her hands. "Fine. Keep your secrets."