How did we come to be here? How did I find myself in this penthouse, with a man like him?
“If you don’t care for it, I’ll happily drink both and get you something else,” he offers and I nod a thanks, deciding I should take that seat at the island after all.
He’s capable in the kitchen, mixing this drink like he’s made it a thousand times before. I have another flash of jealousy. Maybe he has, for some other woman, though it’s none of my business who he brings here or who he makes drinks for. It comes and goes, leaving me questioning how much he’s gotten to me. We’ve both been with other partners. And this, whatever is between us, is mutual.
Evening light glows around him as he tells me, “Let me know what you think.”
“Thank you,” I tell him as he hands me the heavy glass. The first sip goes down smooth. “Wow.” I never would have guessed chocolate and whiskey would be a combination so easy and delectable. He’s made it better than any bartender could have. It overwhelms me, how good it is.
“You like?” he questions, standing and leaning against the island.
“I do.”
“Now that you’ve seen mine, I’m wondering about yours,” he says, sipping his whiskey.
“My place is nothing like this,” I comment, a bit worried, but also blunt. I’m sure he’s aware. I don’t come from this kind of money and my position certainly doesn’t pay a salary where I could afford anything close to this in my lifetime.
Adrian sips his own whiskey, which he takes straight.
“I imagine you bring work home?” he asks.
“I prefer to stay at the office, but yes. My apartment is small. When I split with my ex, I sold off everything and bought a place in the West Village that I’d wanted for so long.”
“Hell’s Kitchen is fitting for you.” I nearly tell him I’m barely there, but then I realize what he’s revealed.
“How did you know?” I question and then answer for myself. “Did you snoop in the company files?”
“Of course I did. When I saw you that first day staring at me across the conference table, I already had your number.”
“Well, that’s not fair,” I say with a pout, although it comes out a lust-filled whisper.
“I don’t play fair.”
“So you liked me while I hated the thought of you?”
He nods. “It’s easy to hate the devil. So no offense taken.”
I laugh, the nervousness dissipating. The drink Adrian made for me is helping. His expression intensifies, though, and he takes another sip of whiskey. “If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think you’re the devil anymore.” Without thinking much of it, I raise my drink and confide in him, “That name is solely reserved for my ex-husband now.”
His next question is casual: “What happened between you and your ex?”
Immediately I regret bringing Carl up in conversation at all. His name is the equivalent to an ice water bath.
I’m over that man, and I’ll never want him again, but it still causes an old pain in my heart to talk about it. Luckily, the pang of betrayal is over quickly, and I can answer Adrian honestly. “He cheated … with the company secretary.”
Anger darkens his features. “So he was a fucking idiot. Got it.”
“No. Not an idiot. He was a manipulative bastard and damn good at it.” My throat is tight as I correct him, once again feeling like a fool. “It wasn’t just once, either. He had an affair for over two years. He used her to get details he shouldn’t have been privy to.”
Adrian takes a step closer and puts a hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he says, his voice rumbling through me. “I’m sorry he hurt you and took advantage of you.” He seems to make a decision. “My last ex was somewhat similar when it came to dishonesty.”
Setting the glass down I admit to him, “I googled your name and love interest.”
“You tried to look up my dating history?” He grins at me as if it’s comical. “Did you find anything?”
“No,” I state and he chuckles at my pursed lips.
There’s almost no information online about Adrian’s love life, as if it’s been purposefully kept offline or scrubbed from the internet. There are companies that will do that for a person, and Adrian has enough money to hire them. Though most people don’t care so much about erasing their exes from history.
“What happened with your ex?”
He drains his glass and pours another, taking in a deep breath. Just then, the intercom at his door rings, stealing his attention.
“One moment,” he tells me and Adrian goes to answer.
“Food’s here, Mr. Bradford.”
“Bring it up.”
It’s quiet as he pours his whiskey, and I attempt a bit of small talk thanking him for dinner.
A doorman appears a minute later, in gray slacks with a shiny black name tag on his crisp white shirt, and two bags in hand. I cling to the tumbler, feeling out of place once again.
Adrian takes the bags out to the living room, where there’s a massive sofa and a coffee table large enough to dine on.
As I slip off the stool, he opens the bags and lays out the containers on the table.
“The view is better in here,” he tells me and when I reach the sofa, my hand on the soft leather, he peeks up at me to add, “and touching you will be far easier here.”
A blush creeps up into my cheeks and I take the seat next to him. The savory smells of basil and marinara waft toward me.
“Italian?”
“Have you had Scalini Fedeli before?”
I shake my head gently, glass still in hand. “I haven’t.”
There’s that hum again, that satisfied hum coming just before he balls up the paper bags. Rising from his seat, he tells me I’m going to love it.
As he plates the food, capellini with prosecco, porcini ravioli and arugula and buffalo mozzarella salad, my mouth waters. I do however notice that the conversation from the kitchen has stopped altogether.
Maybe he’s not going to tell me. It’s obviously a painful subject if he’s just going to move on from it. Curiosity flares again, but I don’t want to ask the question. I’d rather sit with him, enjoy this meal and wait for more of those deep rumbles from him.
“She never loved me,” Adrian says, breaking the silence after the food is plated. “She never even wanted to be with me. She was with someone else the entire time.”
“Oh my God.” My heart breaks for him. I know this feeling so well. I wish I didn’t, because it means my ex was a horrible person who wasted my time, but I know the betrayal that’s coursing through his veins. It makes you feel so sick and stupid. Like you should have known all along what was happening, but you didn’t.
“He told her to sleep with me because he wanted her to persuade me into certain deals.”
“That is …” Horrible. Worse than horrible. Devastating. It would make it hard to continue trusting people in business after that. Almost impossible. No wonder Adrian rearranges companies to such an extent. He doesn’t truly trust anyone to be what they say they are.
“We were together for nearly six months before I realized.”