ADRIAN

I dropped Brianna off in the car and slid in next to her before closing the door. She was still shivering, even after getting inside. She must have been out in the rain for a while.

“Can you see where your stubbornness got you? If you had just gotten in the car with me earlier, you wouldn’t be shivering like this.” I said, glaring at her pointedly. She ignored me, acting as if I wasn’t even speaking. I rolled my eyes at her ridiculous behavior.

“Brandon?” I called.

“Yes, Mr. Adrian?” He responded, glancing at me briefly.

“Turn on the heater, please.” I instructed.

“Of course.” He turned on the heater immediately.

“Where do you live, Brianna?” I asked, turning to her, but she had already fallen asleep.

“Brianna! Brianna!!” I called, tapping her gently, but she didn’t stir. She must have passed out from the cold.

“What do we do now, Mr. Adrian? Should we drop her off at a hotel so she can find her way home tomorrow morning?” Brandon suggested.

“No, that won’t work. If we drop her off at a hotel, it could be risky, and with her condition, she might catch a severe cold if she’s not properly taken care of. She’s unconscious right now, so we’ll take her home.” I said firmly.

“Understood, Sir.” Brandon responded, focusing on the road.

After thirty minutes, Brandon drove up to the mansion and stopped the car. I got out and carefully lifted Brianna into my arms. She instinctively snuggled closer to me and gripped my shirt, making me wonder if she was really unconscious.

“I’ll carry her inside, Sir.” Brandon offered.

“No, I’ve got it. Just bring in my briefcase and her bag.”

I carried Brianna inside, and as usual, the maids lined up to greet me, but paused when they saw the lady in my arms. Confusion and surprise crossed their faces. They must have been wondering who she was.

I ignored them and continued up the stairs, not giving them a chance to gossip. By the time I reached the guest bedroom, their whispers began.

I gently laid Brianna on the bed, not caring about how wet she was. I debated whether to remove her clothes to keep her from getting worse, but I didn’t want to go too far. My more decent side won out, and I left the task for someone else.

I left the room to find Matilda, the head maid. I found her in the kitchen and called her over.

“Matilda, I need you to go to the guest bedroom. Change the lady into one of my shirts and underwear, and make sure to cover her with a duvet. Also, dry her clothes.” I ordered.

She nodded, walking off to carry out my instructions.

I returned to my room, freshened up, and changed into a sweatshirt and sweatpants before heading to the living room to get some work done on my laptop.

A few hours later, I was so engrossed in my work that I declined dinner when a maid came to inform me it was ready. It wasn’t until a loud scream broke my concentration that I realized Brianna had woken up.

BRIANNA

I woke to the delicious smell of soup—chicken noodle soup, to be precise. Don’t ask me how I know, but I’ve had enough soup in my life to recognize this one. I turned my head toward the bedside table, where a bowl of soup sat, waiting for me.

It took a moment to take in my surroundings. The bed was far too soft and spacious to be my own. As I looked around, my gaze landed on a painting of a waterfall that was so beautiful I wished I could see it in real life. The walls were adorned with Japanese gilt panels, and a lovely floor lamp stood next to an antique armchair.

I was still admiring the room when it hit me: I had no idea where I was. The room was stunning, but it was unfamiliar. I tried to remember how I ended up here, but all I could recall was standing by the side of the road, waiting for a cab. An expensive-looking car had stopped in front of me, but after that, everything was a blur.

I looked down and saw that I was wearing a man’s shirt and underwear. My eyes widened in shock. My heart raced with panic. Had I been kidnapped? Raped? Was I going to be sacrificed to some strange cult? Ridiculous thoughts flooded my mind.

I heard heavy footsteps approaching the door, and fear gripped me. I scrambled back on the bed and frantically searched for something to defend myself with—anything. My hand found the bedside lamp, and I held it in front of me as the door opened.

I looked up, ready to confront my captor, but the person who entered wasn’t what I expected. It was him.

“What are you doing here?” I demanded, clutching the lamp like a weapon. “Did you kidnap me just because of everything I’ve done to you?”

“Kidnap you?” Adrian looked at me, clearly confused. “Why the hell would I kidnap you?”

“I don’t know! Maybe to teach me a lesson or... or rape me.” I yelled, tears of frustration building in my eyes.

“Calm down,” he said, holding up his hands. “I didn’t kidnap you.”

“Then what am I doing here?” I asked, still on edge.

“I just saved you from spending the night in the rain.” He said, matter-of-factly.

“Oh...” I mumbled, feeling foolish.

“Yeah, ‘oh’.” He mimicked my tone.

“Well, why didn’t you just take me home after picking me up from the bus stop?” I asked, trying to make sense of everything.

“I asked for your address, but you passed out before you could tell me,” he explained, sounding completely reasonable.

I nodded slowly, trying to process the situation. We stared at each other for a moment before his gaze shifted to the bowl of soup.

“You haven’t eaten your soup?” he asked.

“How do you expect me to eat in an unknown place, thinking I’ve been kidnapped? What if the soup was poisoned?” I retorted, still on edge.

“The soup isn’t poisoned. Drink it before it gets cold. You have a cold, and this will help,” he said, not taking my worries seriously.

As if on cue, I sneezed loudly.

I took the soup, drinking it quickly. When I finished, I burped loudly and patted my stomach. Adrian looked at me, amused.

“That’s unladylike, you know?” he said sarcastically.

“Oh please,” I replied, rolling my eyes. “Don’t lecture me on what’s ladylike and what’s not.”

I glanced at the wall clock and gasped when I saw the time.

“I have to go.” I jumped off the bed, panic rising.

“Where are you going at this hour?” he asked, his voice firm.

“I’m going home. My mom will be worried sick.” I said, my mind set on leaving.

“It’s too late. It’s dangerous out there,” he said, shaking his head.

“I don’t care. I need to go home. Where are my clothes?” I asked.

“I don’t know where they are. You’re not going home tonight,” he said, crossing his arms. “That’s final.”

“You can’t tell me what to do.”

“I can, actually,” he said with a smirk. “I’m your boss, remember? I get to tell you what to do.”

“We’re not at work. I have a say in this.”

“Nope. You don’t. I’m your boss everywhere we go,” he said smugly.

“You’re acting like an overprotective husband right now,” I grumbled.

“I could be your husband if you want,” he teased.

“Eww, no.” I made a face.

“Well, just so you know, if you even think about leaving this room, I’ll either deduct from your salary or fire you,” he warned, a gleam in his eye.

“Why are you doing this?” I asked, frustrated.

“I’m doing this to protect my image,” he said seriously. “If you leave and something happens to you on the way home, people will blame me because they saw me carry you into my car last night.”

“Ugh! Whatever.” I slumped back on the bed.

“By the way,” he said, his voice playful, “you look better in my clothes. Maybe I should just give you my clothes and have you wear them from now on.”

My face turned bright red at the suggestion, and I couldn’t help but wonder where all this flirtation had come from.