Chapter 3
1146 Words
Angel's POV
The rain started just as Adrian Vale began annoying me.
“Are you going to ask me another question, Bennett, or have you run out of things to say?”
I lowered my camera. “I'm wondering how you manage to be so arrogant every day.”
“Natural talent.”
I rolled my eyes.
Our interview had been interrupted by a terrible storm. The crew had returned to the main building, leaving Adrian and me alone in the small interview room while we waited for the rain to ease.
I should have used the opportunity to review my footage.
Instead, he was watching me.
“Tell me something, Angel. Do you genuinely hate me?”
I stiffened. “You know the answer.”
“Because of your father?”
“Don't pretend you care about what happened to him.”
His smile disappeared.
“I do care.”
“Really? Where were you six years ago when your statement helped destroy his career?”
Adrian looked away, running a hand through his hair.
“I was afraid.”
I stared at him. “Afraid of what?”
“Losing my career. Losing everything I'd worked for. The club told us your father was responsible, and I signed the statement supporting their version of events.”
“And you never questioned it?”
“I should have.”
“My father lost his job, Adrian. His reputation. People he trusted abandoned him. Meanwhile, you continued playing football like nothing had happened.”
“I know.”
“No, you don't!”
My voice cracked, and I hated it.
He stepped closer but stopped when he noticed me stiffen.
“I'm sorry, Angel. I know those words can't repair what I did, but I am sorry.”
I wanted to slap him. I wanted to scream at him.
Instead, I found myself staring at his face, searching for the lie I had expected to find.
“Why did you choose me for this documentary?” I asked quietly.
“Because you're not afraid to ask me questions nobody else will.”
“That's all?”
His gaze dropped briefly to my lips.
“No.”
My heart skipped.
“Adrian, don't.”
“Don't what?”
“Look at me like that.”
“Like I want to kiss you?”
I swallowed. “Exactly.”
He moved closer, his voice lowering. “What if I do?”
I should have walked away. I should have remembered my father, the signed statement, and the years of anger I had carried.
Instead, I closed the distance between us and kissed him.
For a moment, he seemed surprised. Then his arms settled around my waist, and he kissed me back with an intensity that stole my breath.
When we finally separated, I looked at him in disbelief.
“What are we doing?”
“Something we probably shouldn't,” he replied.
“At least we agree on something.”
He smiled faintly, then grew serious.
“Tell me to stop, and I will.”
I looked into his eyes.
I knew this was a terrible idea. I knew I would probably hate myself afterwards.
But I wanted him.
And for once, I was tired of fighting what I felt.
I kissed him again.
---
At Adrian's apartment, I had another chance to change my mind.
He stood before me, his usual confidence replaced by something more uncertain.
“Are you sure about this?” he asked.
I nodded.
“Angel, I don't want you waking up tomorrow thinking I pressured you into anything.”
“You haven't.”
He searched my face before gently kissing me.
That kiss became another, and soon, every sensible thought in my head seemed to disappear. I had spent weeks telling myself Adrian was nothing but an arrogant footballer with a charming smile.
Yet here I was, discovering a gentler side of him I had never expected.
He made me laugh when I tried to hide my nervousness. He listened when I spoke, and he never made me feel that I had to do anything I wasn't ready for.
When he drew me into his arms, I rested my forehead against his chest.
“This is a terrible idea,” I whispered.
“Probably.”
“You're supposed to disagree.”
“Would you believe me if I did?”
I laughed despite myself.
Then I lifted my head and kissed him.
That night, I let myself forget who he was. I forgot the scandal, the statement, and the man my father had once considered a friend.
I let myself want Adrian Vale.
And when the night finally settled around us, I fell asleep beside him, believing I could deal with the consequences in the morning.
I was wrong.
---
I woke to sunlight and Adrian's arm around my waist.
For a few seconds, I lay still, enjoying the warmth before reality struck me.
Oh, God.
I had slept with Adrian Vale.
I sat up so quickly that he stirred.
“Angel?” His sleepy voice followed me as I searched for my clothes. “What's wrong?”
“Nothing. I'm leaving.”
He sat up. “Did I do something?”
“No.”
“Then talk to me.”
I shook my head, fighting the uncomfortable tightness in my chest.
“Last night was a mistake.”
His expression changed.
“Was it?”
I forced myself to meet his gaze. “Yes.”
He was quiet for a moment.
“Because you regret sleeping with me, or because you regret wanting me?”
The question struck too close to the truth.
“Don't make this complicated, Adrian.”
“I'm not the one pretending last night meant nothing.”
I grabbed my bag.
“It meant nothing.”
The words hurt more than I expected, especially when I saw his face harden.
“Fine,” he said quietly.
I walked towards the door, desperate to escape before I did something foolish, like turn around and kiss him again.
At the doorway, I stopped.
“I still hate you.”
He held my gaze.
“I know, Angel.”
I left without another word.
Inside the car taking me home, I pressed my fingers against my lips, remembering his kisses despite my best efforts.
I had made a promise to myself that I would never allow Adrian Vale to hurt me the way he had hurt my father.
Yet I had willingly placed my heart in dangerous hands.
I closed my eyes.
It was one night. Nothing more.
I would finish the documentary, uncover the truth, and keep my distance from him.
But as the car pulled away, one humiliating thought refused to leave me alone.
If it meant nothing, why was I already wishing he would kiss me again?
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