The Dangerous Thing About Adrian Voss Was That He Never Did Anything Halfway
The problem with dating a billionaire was that apparently nothing could ever stay simple anymore.
Not dinners.
Not gifts.
Not even clothes.
Because somehow a “family dinner” had turned into Adrian personally dragging me through multiple luxury stores in Manhattan while looking deeply offended by every dress I picked.
“This one is nice,” I said for the fifth time.
Adrian glanced at the dress once.
“No.”
I stared at him.
“You didn’t even look properly.”
“I looked enough.”
“It’s elegant.”
“It’s tragic.”
“It is NOT tragic.”
“It looks like you’re attending a corporate funeral.”
I gasped dramatically.
“You’re rude.”
“You’re welcome.”
Honestly?
Shopping with Adrian was emotionally exhausting.
Mostly
