Chapter Five
1335 Words
Chapter Five
(Adrian POV)
I stood in the driveway long after Nia’s car disappeared through the gates.
Sienna was still crying beside me, one hand pressed to the red mark on her cheek. Normally, that would’ve been enough. Her tears had always pulled my attention without effort.
This time, I kept seeing Nia’s face.
She’d looked at me as if I’d become exactly what she expected and still somehow disappointed her.
“You are the judge and jury,” she’d whispered.
Then she’d asked me, just once, to question what Sienna said before demanding an apology from her.
I hadn’t done it.
I looked down at Sienna, and for the first time, the bandage at her temple looked too small for the chaos she’d brought into my house. Nia had mentioned feeling unwell the night before. She’d tried to tell me something before Sienna called. I’d left anyway. Then I’d brought Sienna home without asking my wife if she was comfortable with it.
It had been inappropriate.
The realization settled badly.
“Adrian?” Sienna’s voice was soft. “If Nia’s upset, I can leave. I don’t want you two fighting because of me. I can look after myself.”
A day ago, I would’ve told her not to be ridiculous.
Instead, I said, “That might be best.”
Her eyes widened. “You want me to go?”
“I’ll have the driver take you home.”
Her lips trembled. “I didn’t mean to cause trouble.”
“I know,” I said.
But the words felt automatic.
After she left, the house became too quiet.
I was going to the Caldwell Tower.
Irritation crawled under my skin the entire drive.
When I reached Nia’s floor, her office door was open.
I heard her voice first.
Then I saw her.
She sat behind her desk, one hand wrapped around a paper cup. Callum Reed stood near her, leaning slightly toward her as he spoke. Whatever he said made her mouth soften.
Nia didn’t smile like that at home.
Reed noticed me first.
The softness vanished from Nia’s face when she followed his gaze to the door.
“Am I interrupting something?” I asked.
Reed straightened. “We were finishing a meeting.”
“Mr. Reed,” I said, keeping my tone smooth, “you seem very comfortable in my wife’s office.”
Nia’s fingers tightened around the cup. “He’s my CFO. We were discussing the quarterly figures, with the door open, until you walked through it.”
“The two of you. Alone.” My gaze moved between them. “Is this how you spend your mornings while I deal with the wreckage at home?”
Her eyes flashed.
“What exactly is going on between you and him?” I asked.
For a second, I expected her to explain herself. She always had before. Carefully. Quietly. As if my anger mattered more than her dignity.
Not today.
She stood.
“What’s going on is a meeting,” she said. “But that isn’t really your question, is it? Why should I answer any of your questions when you never answer any of mine?”
“Watch your tone.”
“You brought another woman into our home. You sat at her side all night. You ran to her at midnight, and this morning you defended her without asking me a single question. Now you stand in my company and accuse me of something shameful because a colleague brought me a cup of tea.”
Reed moved slightly closer to her.
Protective.
I saw it, and I saw something else too.
The way he looked at her wasn’t casual. It wasn’t only loyalty. The man was in love with her.
My hands curled at my sides.
Nia held my gaze. “You can be as close to Sienna as you like. But I’m not allowed one friend?”
Then she asked the question that made the room go still.
“Tell me, Adrian. Are you jealous?”
Jealous.
The word was ridiculous.
I wasn’t jealous of Callum Reed. Nia was my wife. She carried my name. She lived in my house.
I stepped closer. “Remember your role, Nia.”
Her face changed. “My role?”
“You’re my wife.”
“And when has that ever mattered to you?”
Reed took another step, but Nia lifted her hand, stopping him.
That bothered me more than it should’ve. She knew he’d defend her. She trusted him to.
I looked at her for a long moment. “We’ll speak at home.”
“No,” she said. “We’ll speak when I decide there’s something worth saying.”
The office went silent.
I waited for the apology. The softness. The old Nia who bent for me.
She didn’t.
So I left.
I returned home before Nia.
I told myself I wasn’t waiting, but when the front door opened, I was already standing.
Nia stepped inside with her purse held close to her side. She looked paler than she had at the company, tired around the eyes, careful in every movement.
Before I thought better of it, I crossed the foyer and pulled her into my arms.
Her body went stiff.
I lowered my mouth to hers anyway, driven by irritation and something darker. Possession, maybe. The need to prove she was still mine.
She turned her face at the last second.
My kiss landed against her cheek.
I froze.
Nia had never turned away from me before.
“I can’t,” she said, stepping back. “I feel sick.”
Then she rushed past me and disappeared into the bathroom.
I stood in the hallway, listening to the door close and the water turn on. The sound should’ve annoyed me. Instead, worry pushed through everything else.
When she came back out, her face was washed clean, but the color hadn’t returned.
“Are you all right?” I asked.
“I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine.”
“I said I’m fine.”
She tried to move past me, but a small bottle slipped from her purse onto the entry table. I picked it up before she could reach it.
Her composure cracked. “Don’t touch that.”
I looked at the plain label. “What is this?”
“Vitamins.”
“For what?”
“For my health, Adrian. Do I need your permission for that too?”
“You’ve been sick. Pale. Tired. You refused me last night.” My voice hardened despite the unease in my chest. “What’s going on?”
For one second, fear crossed her face.
Then it was gone.
She gave a hollow laugh. “Now you want to know things about me?”
“Yes.”
“Fine.” She held out her hand. “Tell me my birthday.”
I stared at her.
The answer should’ve come.
It didn’t.
Her eyes shone, but she didn’t cry. “My favorite tea? My favorite color? The food I hate? Anything, Adrian.”
I had nothing.
She nodded once, as if I’d only confirmed what she already knew.
“You don’t know because you never cared enough to ask.”
“Nia.”
“No. You only notice me because I stopped behaving the way you wanted.” She took the bottle from my hand. “You don’t care about me.”
Then she walked away.
I let her go because I didn’t know how to stop her without proving her right.
At the stairs, she paused.
“You asked what was going on,” she said quietly. “Maybe ask yourself why you had to see another man care before you remembered I existed.”
She disappeared upstairs.
I remained in the foyer, staring after her.
Nia had changed. She no longer softened when I touched her.
And no matter how many times I tried to deny it, one thought wouldn’t leave me.
Was it because of Callum Reed?
- Writer
