Adrian's POV
I fucked up.
I'd mentioned something I shouldn't have. It was too soon for Amelia to find out who I was. It would ruin my plan entirely.
I couldn't let that happen.
Her eyes flashed with suspicion as she stared at me. She watched me in silence.
I could see the thoughts swirling behind her eyes.
Did she recognize the Adrian in front of her as the little boy from her childhood?
"Mr. Cane," she called.
Her expression was grim. My face tightened as she walked closer.
"Yes?"
She stopped inches away—close enough to study me, far enough to keep her distance.
"I'd appreciate it if you weren't close to my boyfriend," she said.
I tilted my head, subtly sighing in relief.
She didn't figure it out.
"And why is that?"
She took a step closer. "Frankly, I don't trust you."
Touché.
"I don't like you either," she said.
I hid a smile.
There'd be no fun in it if she did.
I closed the distance between us, my gaze falling to her lips.
"Miss White, may I remind you that your boyfriend is my employee," I stated. "And you talking to his boss in such manner is bound to put him in an uncomfortable position."
She stood her ground, unfazed.
"I trust you are mature enough to separate personal matters from work, Mr. Cane?"
I met her gaze.
"Brian is an amazing employee," she said.
Unfortunately.
"You'd be sorry to let him go, I promise you that."
My gaze shifted to her ears. It twitched—uncontrollably.
She was nervous.
I recognized that tell. I saw it all the time when we were kids.
She was scared of Brian losing his job because of her. Her eyes flickered to the door and back to me.
I turned away, hiding my smile. "Understood."
"I assure you, Miss White, Brian will remain an employee," I promised.
"Good."
The door sprang open. Trey walked in, holding two bags of sandwiches.
"Here's your lunch, sir."
He dropped the bags on the desk.
"You may leave."
He nodded politely before walking out. I grabbed a bag and pulled out the wrapped sandwich.
"Here."
She glanced at the sandwich in my hand and back to me.
She shook her head. "Forget lunch. We need to find the missing clauses in the Carlton project; find out who took it."
I glanced at the shredder in the corner of the room and bit back a smile.
"If this gets out, you could lose millions of dollars or—"
Her stomach rumbled loudly for the second time. Her face flushed red as she held her stomach, turning slightly away from me.
I smiled. "We'll find the missing documents."
I pressed the sandwich to her hand. "But first, you need to eat."
She grabbed the food without a word.
"Take it as payback for interrupting your lunch," I said.
She scoffed. "I hardly think this will suffice."
"What do you mean?"
She walked back to the sofa and tore into the bag.
"Emily booked a reservation at Merlot's."
Merlot's was a high-end restaurant. It was exclusive and catered to rich customers. It was booked for months—sometimes, even a year.
I frowned. How did Brian get a reservation at Merlot's?
It was way above his pay grade.
"Are you listening?"
Her voice broke through my thoughts.
"What?"
She held up the half-eaten sandwich. "Do you think this is enough to replace a reservation at Merlot's?"
Her brows knitted. "Do you know how hard it is to make a reservation?"
I nodded. "All too well, seeing as my friend owns the place."
She paused. "You're friends with Eva Merlot?"
I smirked.
She rolled her eyes. "Of course, you are."
If Brian planned to take her to Merlot's, it could only mean one thing. He wanted to propose.
Interrupting her lunch was unplanned, but I was glad I did. I had to keep them separate for a while for my plan to work.
There were many holes in the research Trey had done. There was no mention of Amelia's panic attacks or where Brian had the money to book a reservation at Merlot's.
She ate her sandwich quietly. Her body was turned away from me, like she couldn't wait to leave.
"Who's Adrian?" I asked.
She froze.
"W-what?"
I unwrapped my sandwich and took a bite.
"You called out his name several times while you were unconscious," I said.
She pulled the sandwich away.
I observed her. Her knuckles turned white from gripping it too hard. Her ears were beet red, nostrils flaring.
"You told him to run, that it was dangerous," I continued.
She turned to me. Her eyes were slightly bloodshot, like she'd been crying for hours.
"Did something happen to him? Why were you telling him to run?" I pressed.
"Mr. Cane!" she hissed.
I paused, watching the unfiltered rage in her eyes. I liked seeing that part of her; it reminded me of the girl I knew.
"Yes, Miss White?"
"You have no right to pry into my personal life, Mr. Cane."
She stood up. "I won't stand for it."
She grabbed her purse and walked to the door.
"I apologize."
Her hand paused on the doorknob. I stood up and walked towards her.
"I shouldn't have pried into your private life."
She turned to me.
"I overstepped," I said.
I watched the anger dissipate in her eyes, replaced by surprise.
I tilted my head. Was that all it took? An apology?
She pulled away from the door and sighed.
"It's fine. I'm sure you didn't mean it," she said.
Oh, I wouldn't be so sure.
I gestured at the sofa. "Please."
She dropped her bag and walked back. She buried her hand in her hair, looking away.
"Can you not tell anyone about this, please?"
"On one condition," I said.
Her gaze snapped to me. "What?"
I picked up the sandwich. "Why Brie and not cheddar?"
She let out a wistful smile.
"Do you like it?"
A seven-year-old redhead stared at me as I munched on the cheese.
I nodded. "What is it called?"
She caressed my head gently. "I heard them call it Brie cheese."
I looked at her, wide-eyed. "Won't you get in trouble stealing this?"
She chuckled softly. "Only if you won't tell."
"Can I have more?"
She shook her head. "It's finished."
I pouted.
"Don't worry." She drew me closer. "I promise to buy you all the Brie cheese you want when we escape from here."
I held out my little finger. "Promise?"
She joined her finger with mine. "Pinky promise."
I blinked, the memory fading away. She'd failed to keep her promise to me. To a six-year-old, that was the only hope he had in that hell.
And she'd left me to rot there.
Amelia shrugged. "It just tastes better."
I nodded. "I know. It's my favorite."
A little glint flashed through her eyes.
Recognition, maybe? Could she fathom the idea that the little guy she abandoned had turned out to be her boss?
A part of me wanted her to. Maybe it'd help deflate the anger I had towards her.
Perhaps it could be the very thing to stop me before I reached the edge—before it was too late.
More than anything, I wanted to know why she failed to keep her promise to me.
"Are you done with that?" she asked.
I stared at my half-eaten sandwich. "Yes."
"Good." She straightened. "Now, let's find out who stole the damn contract."
That was it.
She didn't remember me.
Not the boy.
Not the promise.
Not the hell she left behind.
To her, I was nothing.
And maybe that was the cruelest part of all.