The silence between us was thick enough to choke on.
Up close, Adrian didn't look like a CEO, he looked like a storm front. His gray eyes roamed over my face with a devastating slowness, before dropping to my lips, and then, without an ounce of shame, lower.
Fucking ass.
His gaze lingered on the curve of my chest, tracing the line of my sundress.
"You've grown," he murmured.
I felt the heat climb up my neck, and it wasn't from the heat of the afternoon. I have grown? He couldn't be referring to….
"My eyes are up here," I said, my voice coming out far less steady than I intended.
The corner of his mouth curved. "I know where your eyes are, Alex."
"Then look at them."
He didn't. His gaze made one more lazy, insufferable sweep before finally, finally rising to meet mine. And the worst part, the absolute worst part, was that he didn't even look guilty. He looked like a man who had just confirmed something he already suspected.
"You were a scrawny little thing," he said normally, like he had not just visually undressed me in my own hallway. "Just elbows and a bad attitude."
"I still have the bad attitude."
"Mm." His eyes dropped again, just briefly, just enough to make my breath catch. "The elbows filled out."
I felt my entire face ignite.
"I will fucking slap you in the face again, Maddox. Don't test me."
His eyes narrowed, a muscle jumping in his jaw. "Reyes," he corrected, his voice dropping even further than its already deep register. He stayed there for a heartbeat longer than necessary before he suddenly pushed off the wall.
I hated that my body wanted his closeness back.
He began to pace my tiny living room, his presence making the space feel like a dollhouse. He looked at the peeling wallpaper and the sagging sofa with a localized brand of disdain that made my teeth ache.
"Please go away," I said, my voice hovering somewhere between a plea and a command. "I do not want to see you. I don't want you in my house."
He ignored me entirely, stopping to inspect a framed photo of Penelope and me. "So," he said, turning back to face me, his arms crossing over his broad chest. "You're not going to apologize?"
I let out a sharp, hysterical bark of a laugh. "Apologize? Excuse me? For slapping you? Because I'll do it again for free, Adrian. Consider it interest on the misery you put me through."
"Not for the slap, Alexandra," he scoffed, the bitterness in his tone cutting through the air. "For leaving like that. For vanishing in the middle of the night without a word."
Uh? He could NOT be serious.
"Oh, I'm sorry!" I snapped, throwing my hands up. "Was I supposed to stay? My mother said your father was planning to take us away, or replace us, or whatever sick twisted thing—"
"And you believed her?" He stepped toward me again, his expression darkening. "It's a wonder you even believed a single word that came out of her drunk mouth. She was delusional then, and I can only imagine she's worse now." He paused, his eyes scanning my tired face. "Where is she, anyway?"
I bit my lip so hard I tasted copper. "None of your business. She's.….she's my mother. Unlike you, I don't just dump people when they become inconvenient."
"Is that what you think I did?" He took another step. "I spent months looking for you. I didn't change my name to hide, Alex. You have no idea how….." He ran a hand through his dark hair, looking genuinely pissed off for a split second. "Penelope and I became friends at a gala in March. She could never stop talking about her 'brilliant, stubborn' friend who was struggling. I didn't put the pieces together until I saw your portfolio."
"A gala. Must be nice," I whispered, looking at his expensive watch. "Living it all up. The Great Adrian Reyes."
"Alexandra—"
"Don't fucking call me that!" I lunged forward, intending to push him toward the door, but he caught my wrists in an iron grip.
He hauled me back against the wall, his body pinning mine. The air left my lungs in a rush. The anger in his eyes shifted, darkening into a much more predatory stare, something that made my heart race for all the wrong reasons.
We both panted like we had just finished a marathorn.
"I haven't forgotten," he rasped, his face inches from mine. "I haven't forgotten that night, Alex. Have you?"
I swallowed hard, my throat dry. I knew exactly what he was talking about. The night before everything fell apart. I had been fifteen, a mess of hormones and bad decisions, and I had kissed him in a fit of desperate, lonely longing. He had kissed me back with a hunger that terrified me, and for one blurred hour on his bed, the world had disappeared. We had almost...
His gaze dropped to my mouth again, and for a second, I thought he was going to finish what we started ten years ago.
Instead, he let out a jagged grunt—"Fuck"—and pushed off me so abruptly I nearly stumbled. He turned his back to me, his shoulders heaving as he stared at my closed door.
"You came to that office for a reason," he said, his voice returning to that cold, CEO clip. "You're drowning. I don't know why, but I know you need money, and you need it yesterday."
"I'll find another way," I lied, my voice trembling. There was no other way. My debts had made it impossible to be hired by any well paying company.
"There is no other way, Alex. Do not delude yourself." He turned around, his face a mask of cold calculation. "Instead of working for me, I have a proposal. One that puts you back on your feet permanently."
I narrowed my eyes, clutching my arms around my waist. "What's that?"
Adrian adjusted his cuffs, his gray eyes locking onto mine with terrifying finality.
"Marry me."
The room went dead silent.
"What?" I choked out, sure I had misheard him over the sound of my own blood rushing in my ears. "What did you just say?"