Fake Date, Real Fate-Chapter 131: Interrupted [II]

ADRIEN’S POV

Of all the goddamn times.

I shut the bedroom door—harder than I meant to.

For a moment, I didn’t move. Just stood there.

Just stood there. The tension coiled through my spine like a pulled wire. I could still feel her skin under my hands, still hear the sound of her voice—soft and breathless against my throat.

Then came the knock.

I ran a hand down my face once, forcing the weight off my shoulders.

I took the stairs two at a time, jaw clenched so tight it hurt. Thomas better have a damn good reason for interrupting. And Clara? If she so much as breathed the wrong way, I was going to lose the last shred of patience I had left.

Thomas stood at the base of the stairs, looking like he wanted to be anywhere else.

"She’s in the drawing room," he said. fгee𝑤ebɳoveɭ.cøm

I nodded. "Has she said what she wants?"

He hesitated. "Just that it’s urgent."

I nodded.

By the time I reached the drawing room, every trace of heat had drained from my features.

Clara was already on her feet when I entered, her coat half-shrugged off like she expected someone to help her with it. I wasn’t in the mood to play host.

Her eyes widened, then softened. "Adrien," she breathed, as if the sight of me physically relieved her.

I gave a curt nod. "Clara."

Her gaze swept over me, lingering a bit too long on the open buttons of my shirt.

She tilted her head. "You look... comfortable."

"I wasn’t expecting guests."

"I didn’t mean to show up uninvited."

"You could’ve called," I said, stepping farther in.

She blinked. "I didn’t have your number."

As if that explained everything.

She added, "Your mother told me this was your new place. I hope that’s okay..."

I resisted the urge to sigh. "What do you want, Clara?"

Clara stepped closer, hands clasped like a tragic heroine on the verge of tears. "I wouldn’t have come if it wasn’t important."

I waited.

She sighed, like it physically hurt her to recount the trauma. "There was this awful scene at Lenora’s today. I went in for something simple—honestly, I just wanted a few pieces, nothing extravagant—and then these two girls, out of nowhere, started causing trouble. I didn’t provoke anything, I swear. But then one of them got aggressive—actually violent. And next thing I know, I’m being thrown out. Like me, Adrien."

I didn’t blink.

"I was banned. Banned," she repeated for emphasis. "From all their boutiques. And I hadn’t even done anything wrong."

And there it was.

I felt it the moment it clicked.

The boutique. The bans. The "feral redhead." The one looking like she’s innocent.

Isabella.

I stared at Clara, and in that moment, something shifted.

The pieces rearranged.

I’d ordered the bans myself. Called in favors. Told them exactly who to blacklist.

And I’d done it without knowing who it was.

So she was the woman who insulted them.

Damn it.

I kept my face blank.

Her voice rose again, trembling beneath the surface.

"I just got back to this country, and I’m already suffering. I mean, it’s been what—two days? I feel like I can’t even breathe here without someone turning it into a scandal."

Her voice kept going, rising and falling in slow loops. I caught something about unfair treatment, designer heels, Aria, maybe. Then it started to fade.

My mind was already upstairs. With the woman still tangled in my sheets. Probably waiting. Probably curled under the blanket I’d wrapped around her.

Clara’s voice kept flowing—like static in the background.

"...and I swear she lunged at me, Adrien. The redhead was like an animal and the brunette just stood there. And I’ve never been more humiliated in my entire life..."

I caught the tail end of a sentence.

"—don’t you think that’s insane, Adrien?"

My attention snapped back. "What?"

Clara blinked, then gave a shaky laugh. "Were you even listening?"

I offered a faint nod. "Go on."

She sighed again, brushing invisible tears from her lashes, fingers lingering on the collar of her blouse. "I’m just so tired. And I thought, maybe, you could do something about it. You know people. I don’t want this stain following me around. You understand, right?"

I didn’t answer right away.

Then I said, "I’ll handle it."

Her shoulders slumped in visible relief. "Thank you. I knew I could count on you."

A long pause followed.

"Well?" I asked. "Is that all?"

Clara looked up, blinking. "Excuse me?"

"I asked," I said calmly, "if that’s all."

"But—" She blinked, clearly thrown. "You’re not even going to ask who they were? Or what they said? Adrien, this was serious. It was humiliating. You always told me if something happened, I could come to you—"

"That was seventeen years ago," I said flatly.

Clara faltered.

"I’ll make a call," I added after a beat. "But I won’t be getting involved beyond that."

She stared at me, disbelief creasing the perfect line of her mouth. Then she laughed, trying to brush it off. "Right. Okay. I guess I walked into that one."

She stepped back, smoothing her coat as though she needed to recover her balance. "I should go then," she said, voice airier now, falsely light. "Since you’re in such a rush to get rid of me."

"You said what you needed to say," I replied.

She tilted her head. "That’s it? You’re not even going to ask me to stay the night?" she said with a faint, trembling smile. "It’s late, and I’m exhausted. I came all the way here—"

"No."

She blinked again. "No?"

"Wow." She laughed, too high. "Since when did Adrien Walton become a comedian?"

"I’m not joking."

Her smile vanished.

"My woman is waiting for me upstairs," I said calmly.

Clara went still.

Her voice dropped. "Your... woman?"

I didn’t answer immediately. Just held her gaze.

Then I said, evenly, "Yes."

Clara’s face crumpled, the carefully constructed mask of poise cracking under the weight of his words. She stared, her mouth opening and closing like a fish. "Your... your woman?" she repeated, the sound thin and reedy. "Adrien, what are you talking about? Are you joking? Is this some kind of... new game?"

"No game, Clara." My voice was flat, devoid of any warmth or theatricality. "She’s upstairs. And I’d like to go back to her."

Clara’s eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of something—perhaps annoyance?—crossing her features. "Oh my," she said, a slight laugh escaping her lips. "Well, I’ll believe that for now."

She tilted her head, her gaze sweeping over me. "You, with a woman? You don’t even like other ladies touching you. How come you have a woman?"

"I believe I have made my point."

Clara’s smile widened, but there was an edge to it now. "So, are you just trying to get rid of me, you silly goose?"

"I’ll have Thomas call your driver."

Her lips parted, disbelief flashing behind her perfectly done lashes. "Adrien, since when are you so heartless?"

Clara stared at me, clearly hoping I’d soften. I didn’t.

I walked toward the door. "Thomas," I called. "Send her home."

"Yes, sir."

I didn’t look back. I had a ghost to exorcise upstairs.

Visit freewe𝑏nov(e)l.𝗰𝐨𝐦 for the 𝑏est n𝘰vel reading experience