wanted by the CEO

Chapter 5- Press Junker Disaster

The press junket was chaos from the moment Naomi and Adrian arrived. Cameras flashed like lightning, microphones jutted toward them, and reporters buzzed questions faster than their handlers could redirect. The room smelled of polished floors, perfume, and the subtle tang of adrenaline, and Naomi’s pulse raced with every step Adrian took beside her.

He moved with effortless confidence, one hand brushing hers ever so slightly as they walked—just enough to make her pulse spike without seeming deliberate. Naomi clenched her purse tighter, trying to focus on the questions being thrown at them.

“Mr. Cole, your engagement announcement came as a surprise. Are you… truly in love?” one reporter asked, voice sharp.

Adrian’s smile was calm, charming, yet there was something in the tilt of his head that made Naomi’s stomach flutter. “Absolutely,” he said smoothly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear as he gestured toward her. “We’ve known each other for years. Timing is everything.”

Naomi froze for a heartbeat, caught off-guard by the brush of his fingers. Heat flared across her arm, and she struggled to keep her composure. Timing is everything, she reminded herself, the mantra barely keeping her pulse from racing.

The questions kept coming, rapid-fire, and soon Naomi found herself pressed against Adrian’s side as the crowd shifted, her arm brushing his, hip nearly touching his. She could feel the warmth of him through the thin fabric of their jackets, and every nerve in her body seemed to ignite.

“You’re awfully close,” she murmured, voice low, more a tease than a complaint.

Adrian’s golden eyes flicked down at her with that infuriating, unreadable expression. “Am I?” His voice was low, teasing, and the warmth in it made her shiver. “I thought I was just keeping you from falling over in your heels.”

Naomi rolled her eyes, but the flutter in her chest betrayed her. Every word, every glance, every subtle brush of fingers was designed to be innocuous, but it was anything but.

As they moved to pose for photographs, Adrian’s hand brushed hers again. This time, he lingered just long enough that Naomi’s breath caught. She caught herself leaning slightly closer—accidentally? Perhaps. But the surge of electricity between them was undeniable.

A sudden mishap with a backdrop sent Naomi stumbling toward him, and Adrian caught her effortlessly. Their faces were inches apart. She could feel the heat radiating from him, smell the faint cologne that had always been intoxicating, and the world seemed to narrow until it was just the two of them.

“Careful,” he murmured, voice low and teasing. “Wouldn’t want to ruin the perfect image.”

Naomi’s cheeks flushed as she straightened, trying to push herself away—but she didn’t. She couldn’t. His presence had her heart racing, pulse pounding, and something primal whispered in her chest, urging her closer.

The rest of the session was a blur of flashes, staged laughter, and whispered instructions. Yet every time Adrian’s hand brushed hers, every time their hips nearly touched in tight corridors or cramped corners, Naomi felt a delicious tension coil through her.

Later, alone for a brief moment backstage, Adrian leaned against the wall, close enough that the heat from his body warmed hers. “You’re impossible,” he murmured, the low timbre of his voice sending a shiver down her spine.

Naomi tilted her head, a sly smile tugging at her lips. “I could say the same about you.”

He chuckled softly, leaning slightly closer until the space between them was electric, charged with anticipation. “One month, Naomi,” he said, voice husky. “And yet, I can’t help thinking… this is going to be very difficult.”

Her pulse leapt. “Difficult for whom?” she whispered, voice teasing, even as her heart betrayed her.

“Both of us,” he murmured, and for a heartbeat, she thought he might close the distance, let their lips meet. Instead, he stepped back, leaving her breathless, flushed, and utterly aware of the desire simmering between them.

As they exited the chaotic room together, hands brushing almost by accident, Naomi realized the rules they had set were already unraveling. One month. Pretending. Boundaries. None of it would be easy. Not when Adrian Cole was this close, this dangerous, and this infuriatingly intoxicating.

And in that brief, fleeting contact—the brush of his fingers against hers, the heated glance they shared—Naomi understood exactly what she had signed up for.

It wasn’t just a fake engagement. It was a challenge, a temptation, a slow-burning fire that neither of them could deny.