Chapter Seven—Adrian
1185 Words
The Castellane Mansion had always been quiet, but tonight the silence pressed harder than usual. A silence you could choke on. The kind polished wealth loved to drape itself in, so no one could hear the fractures beneath.
My suite smelled faintly of cedar and leather. Zeus; my German shepherd, stretched across the rug by the window, massive frame rising and falling with steady breaths. He was the only thing in this house that ever felt alive.
I sat in the leather armchair, glass of scotch warming in my hand, though I hadn’t touched it in half an hour. The city beyond the tall windows glittered, North Wilmore’s lights blinking like they had secrets I wasn’t allowed to know.
I should’ve been finishing contracts. Should’ve been preparing for tomorrow’s board meeting. Instead, my mind had been caught two days back.
The café.
Nova Ashton.
Her hand in mine.
It was supposed to be a role, nothing more. A performance staged to slice Bruno’s pride and remind him actions had consequences. She was supposed to be a weapon.
But then she’d looked at me.
Not the sharp glares she usually aimed like arrows. Not the fake smile she wore for others. For one second, it had been real. And I’d noticed.
Damn me, I’d noticed.
I told myself it didn’t matter. Told myself she didn’t matter. But the words “she’s mine” kept echoing back, and every time they did, they sounded less like a bluff and more like a confession.
Zeus stirred, eyes opening to watch me. Loyal. Uncomplicated. Everything people weren’t.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I muttered. “I know what I’m doing.”
The dog’s ears twitched, unconvinced.
The door slammed open before I could decide whether to believe myself.
“Adrian.”
Bruno’s voice.
I didn’t flinch. Didn’t even turn right away. I set the glass down with deliberate care, then finally looked over.
He stood in the doorway, fists clenched, anger radiating off him like heat.
“Bruno,” I said calmly. “What a surprise.”
“You know why I’m here.”
“Humor me.”
“Nova.”
The name cut through the room.
I leaned back in my chair, crossing one ankle over my knee. “What about her?”
“Don’t,” he snapped. “Don’t play this game with me.”
“I don’t play games,” I replied evenly. “I end them.”
His jaw locked. “You think parading her around is funny? Holding her hand in public, letting everyone think…”
“Letting everyone think what?” I interrupted. “That she’s mine?”
His face twisted. “She isn’t yours.”
“She isn’t yours either,” I said, voice hardening. “You saw to that when you couldn’t keep your loyalty… or your dignity.”
Color flared in his cheeks. “She doesn’t belong in your world.”
I let out a humorless laugh. “And she belonged in yours? Tell me, was that before or after you humiliated her?”
That landed. He flinched.
His voice dropped, bitter. “You think she actually wants you? You think she looks at you and sees anything but another Castellane? She’ll never choose you. Not really. She’ll always remember you’re just like him.”
The jab hit squarely.
Him. Father.
I kept my face still, but my chest tightened.
Bruno saw the flicker—he always did—and smirked like he’d won something.
“Stay away from her,” he said, though his voice shook now.
I rose from my chair, slow, deliberate, until I towered over him. Zeus pushed up from the floor, hackles raised, a low growl rolling out like thunder.
“No,” I said, voice quiet but sharp as glass. “You stay away from her. Because if I see you near her again, Bruno, I won’t bother with words.”
The air between us pulsed, the weight of years of resentment pressing down. For a second, I thought he’d swing. Zeus bared his teeth.
Bruno’s throat bobbed. He stepped back toward the door, hand on the knob.
“This isn’t over,” he spat.
“It never is.”
He slammed the door, rattling the frame.
Zeus padded over, pressing his head into my hand. I let out a slow breath, stroking his fur. The silence that followed was heavier than before.
I thought it was done. I should’ve known better.
Another knock. Softer this time. The door opened without waiting for permission.
“Adrian.”
My mother.
Margaret Castellane swept into the room, pearls at her throat, perfume sharp in the air. Her posture was perfect, her smile absent.
“I heard shouting,” she said, though her tone made it sound more like a nuisance than a concern.
“Bruno,” I replied.
Her lips thinned. “Of course. He grows more reckless by the day.”
I said nothing.
She studied me the way she always did, like I was an investment she was trying to assess. “And Nova?”
The sound of her name from my mother’s mouth scraped something raw inside me.
“What about her?” I asked carefully.
“She’s Bruno’s ex girlfriend,” Margaret said bluntly. “And a teenager. Don’t you think it’s a little off to date a kid who’s your younger brother’s ex?”
“Don’t refer to her as just his ex, mother.”
“But she is.”
Her voice was cold, certain.
“Adrian, you’ve always been the disciplined one,” she continued, stepping closer. “The steady one. Don’t let a girl undo that. Don’t let her unravel you.”
“She isn’t undoing me,” I said, perhaps too quickly.
Margaret’s gaze narrowed, lips curving in the faintest of smirks. “You sound like your father when you say that.”
The words landed like a slap.
She pressed on. “You think I can’t see it? The way you look at her, the way your temper snaps when her name is mentioned? She’s a distraction. And distractions are dangerous.”
“She’s nothing,” I lied.
Margaret tilted her head, pearls glinting under the chandelier. “You can lie to me if you like. But don’t lie to yourself. Your father may be away, but don’t think he isn’t watching. He built this empire for you to carry. Do not throw it away chasing something… cheap.”
Cheap.
The word stung more than I expected.
“I won’t,” I said flatly.
She lingered a beat longer, eyes searching, before turning toward the door.
“Control yourself, Adrian,” she said softly, almost like a plea. Then she was gone.
The door clicked shut.
I sank back into my chair, dragging a hand down my face.
Zeus climbed onto the rug beside me, resting his head against my knee. His loyalty was grounding.
Unlike everything else.
Because no matter what I told Bruno. No matter what I told my mother. No matter what I told myself.
Nova Ashton was already undoing me.
- Writer
