Adrian lingered outside Mira's chamber for a brief moment after the door shut, his mind still echoing with her teasing voice.
Then, a faint sound — the soft click of heels. He turned slightly.
Isabella was standing a few paces down the corridor, arms crossed, eyes half-lidded — the kind of look that would've passed for calm if not for the tension simmering behind it.
"Well," she said, her tone honey-smooth but edged. "That was… polite of you."
Adrian sighed inwardly. "You saw that."
"Oh, I didn't just see it," Isabella replied, stepping closer. "I was there when she practically demanded your company. You didn't even hesitate."
"Mira asked me to walk her," he said evenly. "I was being courteous."
"Courteous," Isabella repeated with a dry laugh. "That's one way to describe escorting a woman who's clearly testing how far she can push you."
Adrian offered a faint smile. "You think she was pushing me?"
"Please," she scoffed, coming to a stop just a step too close. "I've seen the way she looks at you. She's curious — not in love, not infatuated, just… curious. And you—" Her eyes flicked up and down his frame, "—you're the sort of man curiosity tends to spiral around."
"Sounds like jealousy," Adrian said softly.
She blinked once. "Observation."
"Jealous observation," he corrected, amused.
That earned him a long stare, and then a quiet, dangerous smile. "You're awfully confident for someone who just came from another woman's room."
Adrian chuckled. "It's not what it looked like."
"Oh, I know what it looked like," Isabella said, circling around him slowly, her voice dipping into a teasing murmur. "She wanted you to walk her back. You obliged. She lingered at her door. You lingered too. And then, just before she stepped inside, she smiled — that smug, satisfied little smile."
He arched a brow. "You noticed all that?"
"I notice everything that concerns you, my darling," she said, stopping behind him now. Her fingers brushed lightly against his sleeve as she leaned in close. "A bad habit, perhaps."
Adrian turned to face her, and for a moment, their gazes locked — neither angry, but charged.
"You really are jealous," he said finally, a quiet grin forming.
Isabella didn't deny it. She tilted her chin slightly, eyes glinting. "Maybe. Or maybe I just don't like watching another woman test boundaries that I already know."
He raised an eyebrow. "You sound territorial."
She smiled faintly. "Maybe I am."
There it was — honesty, cloaked in playfulness but unmistakable.
Adrian's voice softened. "You don't have to compete with her."
"Compete?" she repeated, laughter slipping past her lips. "Darling, if I ever started competing, you wouldn't survive it."
He grinned. "A threat?"
"A promise," she murmured.
The air between them thickened — not with anger, but something sharper, hotter.
Isabella looked away first, composing herself with a small sigh. "Still… I suppose I should be grateful you didn't actually go inside."
"Would it have made a difference?"
She turned back to him, eyes narrowing slightly. "Yes. Because then I might have dragged you out myself."
That made him laugh. "Mother'd do that?"
"I've done worse for less," she said with a little shrug. Then, lowering her voice: "Besides, I know exactly what kind of man you are, Adrian Everhart. You don't resist temptation — you study it, dissect it, savor it."
He smirked. "Accusing me of being too curious now?"
"No," she said. "Just reminding you that curiosity can be mutual."
That last line came with a subtle smile — teasing, but laden with intent. She brushed past him, deliberately close enough that her shoulder grazed his arm.
He caught her wrist gently before she could leave. "Mother."
She looked back, eyebrow raised.
"Thank you," he said.
"For what?"
"For not pretending you don't care."
A small laugh escaped her — genuine this time. "Oh, I care, Adrian. That's precisely the problem."
She pulled her hand free and continued down the hall, hips swaying with deliberate calm.
Adrian's hand closed around hers before she'd taken more than a few steps.
Isabella stopped mid-stride, breath catching slightly as he tugged her back toward him with quiet determination.
Her eyes widened just a fraction — surprise flickering there for half a heartbeat before his mouth found hers.
The kiss was firm at first, his lips claiming hers with deliberate pressure. Isabella's breath hitched, a soft gasp escaping against his mouth, and Adrian took the opportunity to deepen the contact. His tongue swept along the seam of her lips — a silent request that she answered without hesitation.
The moment her lips parted, the kiss transformed into something molten.
Their tongues met in a slow, exploratory slide — tentative for only a heartbeat before hunger took over. Adrian's hand cupped the back of her neck, fingers threading into the soft hair at her nape as he angled her head, deepening the kiss with deliberate intent.
Isabella responded in kind, her tongue tangling with his in a rhythm that grew increasingly desperate, increasingly necessary.
She tasted faintly of wine and something sweeter — something uniquely her — and Adrian found himself chasing that taste, his tongue stroking against hers with renewed fervor.
Isabella made a soft sound in the back of her throat, somewhere between a sigh and a whimper, and her hands fisted tighter in his shirt, pulling him closer as if she couldn't bear even the smallest distance between them.
Their mouths moved together with increasing urgency — lips sliding, tongues dancing in a heated exchange that spoke of weeks of tension finally finding release.
Adrian's teeth caught her bottom lip gently, tugging before soothing the slight sting with another sweep of his tongue. Isabella shuddered against him, her own tongue chasing his back into his mouth, exploring with bold strokes that made his pulse thunder in his ears.
The kiss grew messier, wetter — all pretense of control abandoned as they consumed each other. The soft, slick sounds of their mouths moving together filled the quiet hallway, punctuated only by their ragged breathing.
When they finally broke apart — more from the desperate need for air than any desire to stop — a thin, glistening strand of saliva connected their lips for a breathless moment. It stretched between them, catching the dim hallway light before breaking, leaving both their mouths wet and swollen.
Isabella's eyes were unfocused, pupils blown wide and dark with desire. Her chest heaved as she struggled to catch her breath, lips parted and glistening.
"What," she whispered, voice hoarse and trembling, "was that for?"
Adrian's thumb traced slow, grounding circles over her knuckles, though his own breathing was far from steady. His gaze held hers with an intensity that made her shiver.
"An assurance," he said quietly, his voice rough with emotion. "No matter what happens — no matter who else I talk to, flirt with, dance with — you matter to me, Mother. You're not just another player in this game."
Her breath caught again, but for an entirely different reason this time.
"You..." She swallowed hard, vulnerability flickering across her features. "You mean that?"
"Every word," Adrian murmured, stepping closer again, his forehead resting gently against hers. "I won't pretend the others don't exist. This world demands we play certain roles. But when I'm with you like this? There's no performance. No strategy. Just... us."
Isabella's eyes fluttered closed, and when she opened them again, they were suspiciously bright.
"You're going to ruin me," she whispered.
"Only if you let me," he replied with the ghost of a smile.
She exhaled shakily, then leaned in and kissed him again — shorter this time, but no less charged. Her tongue swept across his bottom lip one more time before she pulled back, leaving them both breathless once more.
When she stepped back, smoothing down her dress with exaggerated composure, her flushed cheeks and swollen lips gave her away completely.
"Now," she said, though her voice still held a slight tremor, "walk me to my room. Properly this time."
Adrian chuckled, offering his arm. "As you wish."
She slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow, leaning just slightly against him as they walked — not from weakness, but from choice.
And this time, there was no jealousy. No tension.