The Wrong Brother

Chapter Seventeen—Nova

The penthouse felt unusually quiet when I stepped into Adrian’s study. Normally, it smelled of polished wood, leather-bound books, and that faint scent he always carried—somewhere between cedar and warmth. Tonight, though, the air felt heavy, almost suffocating, like it had been holding its breath for me to enter.

Adrian sat at his massive desk, shoulders hunched, hands pressed against his temples. Papers were scattered in front of him, a laptop open, half a glass of untouched water at his side. The glow of the desk lamp carved sharp shadows across his face, and for the first time, I noticed the lines around his eyes that stress had carved there.

“Adrian…” My voice was soft, almost a whisper, hesitant.

He didn’t lift his gaze immediately. His fingers flexed against his forehead, tense, a subtle tremor I had never seen before. And then, slowly, his eyes—those dark, steady onyx eyes—met mine. Vulnerability flickered there, raw and fleeting.

“I didn’t expect you,” he said quietly, his voice unusually soft, almost strained.

“I… wanted to check on you,” I admitted, moving closer. “You’ve been… distant all day.”

He exhaled sharply, shoulders slumping further. “Distant doesn’t even begin to cover it. The video… the backlash… everything. It’s… it’s a storm, Nova. And I don’t even know where to start fixing it.”

I stepped closer, instinctively reaching for his hand. Heat radiated from his skin as my fingers brushed his, and he didn’t pull away. That simple touch anchored me in a way I didn’t expect.

“You don’t have to face it alone,” I whispered. “I’m here. We’ll handle it together like you said.”

A flicker of a small, unguarded smile tugged at his lips. “Together,” he echoed, a shadow of relief in his voice.

I sank into the chair beside him, our hands still intertwined, Zeus curling at my feet like he sensed the tension in the room. The air between us was electric, charged with unspoken things—the remnants of our fake dating plan, the sparks that had been building for weeks, and the vulnerability that neither of us had admitted aloud.

“The shareholders are calling, the media won’t let this go, and my team… they’re stressed. And then there’s you, in the middle of it all,” he said, voice low, almost a confession. “I hate that you’re being dragged into this because of me.”

I squeezed his hand gently. “I’m here by choice. You don’t have to protect me… but I want to protect you too.”

His head tilted slightly, eyes narrowing as if trying to measure the weight of my words.

“You’re stronger than you think,” he said softly, voice rough around the edges. “And yet… I can’t stop worrying about you. That’s… not new.”

I blinked, heat rising to my cheeks. “Huh?”

He leaned back in his chair slightly, but didn’t release my hand. “Yes. I always worry about you. Even when you’re a danger I can ill afford.”

A small laugh escaped me, though it was tinged with tension. “You make it sound like danger is a good thing.”

“Sometimes it is,” he murmured, and for a heartbeat, his gaze softened. Sparks ignited all over again, impossible to ignore.

I wanted to retreat, to remind myself that this was still supposed to be a plan. A tool. A way to get back at Bruno. But it was impossible to think that way with him here, in this quiet study, vulnerability laid bare, his hand warm and steady in mine.

“You don’t have to bear this alone,” I repeated, quieter this time. “Not with the world watching, not with the scandal, not with…” My voice faltered. “…not with anything.”

His thumb traced the back of my hand. “You make it sound simple,” he murmured, voice low and intimate. “But it’s anything but.”

I leaned forward instinctively, resting my forehead against his. The warmth, the presence, the slow, deliberate connection—my heartbeat stuttered.

“Then let me make it simple,” I whispered. “I’m here. For you. Whatever you need.”

Adrian closed his eyes briefly, letting out a long exhale, and I realized the tension I had been sensing all day—the kind that seemed to weigh the air down—was easing, even if just slightly.

“You’re not supposed to see this side of me,” he admitted quietly, opening his eyes again. “The side that’s stressed, tired, vulnerable. I usually don’t let anyone in. But… you… you’ve always managed to get past the walls I put up.”

“I don’t plan on leaving,” I whispered, leaning closer. “Walls or no walls.”

His gaze softened, lingering on me with something I couldn’t name—desire, affection, something deeper. “I… care about you, Nova,” he said quietly, raw and unfiltered. “More than I… should.”

I felt my chest tighten, and without thinking, I whispered back, “I care about you too. More than I thought I would.”

The space between us seemed to shrink, tension coiling tighter with every heartbeat. I could feel Zeus shift at my feet, a soft nudge reminding me that life continued, but the moment between us felt infinite.

“You make the chaos… easier,” he murmured. “Even in the middle of all this… mess, you make me feel like there’s a calm I didn’t know I needed.”

I swallowed hard, voice trembling slightly. “And you… make me feel safe. Even when everything else is falling apart.”

His forehead rested lightly against mine, our breaths mingling. The intensity of the closeness made my pulse leap, my skin flush. Sparks, warmth, and desire threaded through every touch, every glance, every word.

“You’re not just a tool,” I whispered, almost afraid to say it aloud. “Not for revenge. Not for anything. I… I feel this what we have it’s real.”

He didn’t respond immediately, just held me, fingers entwined with mine. Then, finally, he said, voice low and rough, “It is real. And I don’t want it to ever stop.”

I leaned closer, daring to let my lips brush his temple in a soft, comforting gesture. “Then it won’t stop,” I whispered. “Not while I’m here.”

The quiet intimacy of the study wrapped around us, shielding us from the world outside—the media, the scandal, the gossip, the judgment. For a moment, it was just us, just warmth, hands clasped, hearts racing, sparks flying silently.

Zeus barked softly, a small reminder of reality, and I laughed, pressing a brief kiss to Adrian’s hand. “Even Zeus approves.”

He smirked faintly, though there was a softness in his eyes I hadn’t seen before. “Good. He’s a better judge than most people out there.”

I leaned against him slightly, allowing the comfort, the connection, the slow burn between us to fill me. Outside, the world could judge, gossip, and criticize. Inside Adrian’s study, there was only this—trust, intimacy, and the fragile, powerful beginning of something that neither of us could ignore anymore.

I realized, fully, that the fake dating plan had ended long ago. What we had now was real, intense, complicated, and entirely ours.

And I wouldn’t trade it for the world.