His Arranged Desire

Chapter Six

Adrian's POV

The car ride back to my estate should have been uneventful. Instead, my thoughts betrayed me.

Her lips.

I could still feel them against mine, softer than silk, warm and trembling. The sweetness of her kiss lingered like the taste of forbidden fruit. Fresh, untainted. She had smelled of roses and something lighter, softer-like vanilla warmed by the sun.

It irritated me.

I had kissed women before-dozens, countless-but none of them had imprinted themselves in my head like she had with just one touch. Isabella Romano. Now Isabella Moretti. My wife. My possession.

I clenched my jaw, staring out the tinted glass as the driver took the winding road up to my mansion. I would not think of her lips. I would not think of her eyes-those wide, defiant green eyes that had stared back at me even when she trembled.

The car was silent except for the low hum of the engine. She sat beside me, hands folded tightly in her lap, her gaze fixed on the window. But I could sense her thoughts-the stiffness in her shoulders, the shallow rhythm of her breath. Fear. Confusion. And something else she probably couldn't name.

The tension was thick enough to choke on. I told myself it was better that way.

When the car pulled to a stop at the base of the steps, I didn't move at first. The headlights carved pale lines across the stone façade of my home-three stories of cold black marble and steel. It was everything I was. Unyielding. Merciless. Safe.

I stepped out, inhaling the sharp night air, but the peace it usually brought me was nowhere to be found.

She hesitated inside, gathering the folds of her gown as if bracing for whatever waited beyond the door. Her reflection in the car window was ghostlike-beautiful, fragile, and terribly out of place.

I opened her door, not out of courtesy, but because I couldn't stand watching her fumble another second. When her fingers brushed mine, that same flicker of unwanted electricity surged again-sharp enough to make me pull away a fraction too quickly.

She stepped out, her eyes lifting to the mansion. "It's..." Her voice faltered. "Enormous and different from what I imagined."

"Different?" I asked, my tone sharper than intended.

She nodded once. "Cold."

I didn't respond. I didn't need to. She was right.

Inside, the air was still. The chandeliers glowed, but the light didn't reach the corners. My footsteps echoed, hers followed softly, hesitant but steady. She looked around, absorbing every detail-the marble, the glass, the portraits whose eyes seemed to follow.

I could almost hear her thoughts again. This isn't home. This is a cage.

And maybe she was right about that too.

We reached the top of the stairs, the corridor stretching endlessly ahead. I stopped before the double doors of my room.

She froze when she saw where I was leading her. "This is-"

"Our room," I finished.

Her eyes darted to mine, a spark of disbelief and defiance flickering through the fear. "What are you talking about? We can't share a room. This isn't-this isn't real. We aren't even together."

"It's real enough, and we don't even need to be together." I said, stepping closer. Her back hit the door. "You wear my name. That's all the world needs to know."

Her lips parted as though she wanted to argue but couldn't find the words. I could see it in her eyes-the turmoil, the questions she wouldn't dare voice.

"Do you think I want this?" she whispered.

"No," I said truthfully. "But you'll learn to live with it."

She swallowed hard and looked away, her jaw tightening. For a moment, the silence between us was unbearable. I hated the way she looked then-small, yes, but proud. Still fighting.

When I finally turned the handle and let her in, she walked slowly, her fingers grazing the edge of the bedpost, the fabric of the curtains, the polished surface of the vanity-as if trying to anchor herself in a place that didn't belong to her.

I began unbuttoning my cuffs, removing my jacket.

"Why do we have to share a room and a bed? This is very inappropriate . I've never slept with anyone before" she said before clearing her throat when she realised that came out wrong

" What I mean is that I have never shared a bed with someone before so where are you sleeping?.

I looked at her with a bored expression

"Say whatever you want, this is my room, so I'm staying in it."

I could feel her stare on my back, searching for something in me I refused to give.

I started unbuckling my pants and she immediately turned away "You'll sleep here."

Her voice wavered. "Where will you-"

"Here."

She didn't move, just watched me. For a heartbeat, something flickered across her face-fear, or pity, or both.

When she finally nodded, it was almost imperceptible. "As you wish."

The defiance was gone from her tone, replaced by a quiet strength that unsettled me more than her protests ever could.

I left her standing there and stepped into the bathroom. The hot water thundered against my skin, but it couldn't wash away the image of her-standing in my room, fragile yet unbroken, her green eyes haunted but proud.

When I returned, towel in hand, she was still at the edge of the bed. Her hands were clasped tightly, her knuckles pale. She looked up, startled, when she noticed me watching her.

I didn't speak. I just walked past her, pulled back the sheets, and lay down.

She hesitated before retreating to the bathroom. Minutes later, I heard the faint sound of water, then the quiet rustle of fabric. When she returned, I pretended to be asleep. She stood there as if contemplating whether to sleep in the same bed with me but ultimately decided to stay.

She just slipped into the bed's far edge, facing away.

The silence stretched, heavy and endless. I could hear her breathing-soft, uneven-and the faint tremor she tried to hide.

Her scent drifted toward me again. Roses. Vanilla. Warmth I didn't deserve.

I told myself I didn't care. That she meant nothing.

But when I closed my eyes, all I saw was her-small and breakable in my world of glass and stone, yet strong enough to keep breathing in it.

And I hated that part of me wanted her to stay.

Sleep came slowly, cruelly. The last thing I felt was her presence beside me-too close, too soft, too human.

And i hated that i wanted more.