Chapter 6— Stolen Moments ❤️
1119 Words
Elena woke up the next morning with the same problem she’d gone to bed with:
Adrian Vale’s almost-kiss was stuck in her brain like a song she hated but secretly replayed.
She’d scrubbed dishes until her fingers pruned. She’d reorganized her pantry. She’d eaten cereal straight from the box at midnight while telling herself to get a grip.
None of it worked.
Every time she blinked:
the terrace.
the way he said her name.
the way he’d leaned in—
“Elena!”
She snapped back to reality as she nearly crashed into a delivery cart.
Milo caught her shoulders dramatically. “Are you sleepwalking or having a romantic meltdown?”
“I’m FINE,” she lied, putting down her bag.
“You look like a Victorian ghost haunting her own love story.”
“Goodbye,” she muttered.
“Accept your feelings!” he sang.
She fled to the kitchen.
⸻
A Surprise Visit
Her shift had barely started when the atmosphere in the restaurant shifted—like the room collectively straightened its spine.
Kara groaned. “You’ve got to be kidding me. He’s back already?”
Elena didn’t have to look to know who “he” was.
But she did look.
Of course she did.
Adrian stood by the host stand, speaking quietly with the maître d’. His suit was dark navy today—dangerously flattering, as if his tailor wanted to cause emotional damage.
He turned. His gaze found her instantly.
Of course it did.
She jerked her eyes away so fast she nearly strained her neck.
“I can take any table except his,” she hissed to Kara.
Kara shrugged. “He’s not sitting. He’s asking for you.”
“WHAT? Why?”
Kara raised a brow. “Why do you think?”
Elena wanted to melt into the floor.
⸻
The Hidden Stairwell
“Elena,” Adrian said when she reached him, “may we talk?”
“No.”
“Two minutes.”
“No.”
“One minute.”
“No.”
He smiled slightly. “Thirty seconds.”
She exhaled sharply. “Fine. But if this gets me fired—”
“I’ll hire you.”
“I don’t WANT to be hired by you!”
He chuckled softly. “Then I’ll prevent you from being fired. Fair?”
“No!”
But she was already following him.
He led her to a back hallway and into a small, quiet stairwell rarely used except by staff. The door clicked shut behind them.
The silence between them felt different than usual—
charged, tight, as if the walls themselves leaned closer to listen.
“Elena,” he said softly, “about last night.”
“Nope,” she blurted. “We’re not doing this.”
“We need to.”
“No, we don’t! Nothing happened.”
“That’s the problem,” he murmured.
Her pulse misfired.
“Adrian, I can’t— we can’t— you’re— this is—” She pointed between them wildly. “This is a bad idea.”
“Probably,” he admitted.
“Definitely!”
He stepped closer. “And yet you’re still here.”
She hated that he was right.
Hated how aware she suddenly was of how small the stairwell was.
How close he stood.
How warm his presence felt.
“I came because I didn’t want you to cause a scene,” she said stiffly.
He arched a brow. “Do I seem like someone who causes scenes?”
“Yes,” she said. “But quietly.”
Adrian laughed—quiet, surprised, unguarded.
It only made everything worse.
“Elena,” he said, gentler now. “You’re scared.”
“No I’m not.”
“You’re terrified.”
“I’m—okay, maybe a little terrified.”
“Because you feel something.”
“I feel indigestion.”
“Do you?”
“Yes,” she insisted. “I ate a questionable donut earlier.”
“Elena.”
She exhaled shakily. “Fine. Maybe I feel… something. But that doesn’t mean we can… do something. You’re my boss’s boss’s boss’s boss.”
“Technically the owner’s son.”
“That’s worse!”
His smile faded—softening into something more serious, more vulnerable.
“I don’t care what my last name is,” he said quietly. “Not when I’m with you.”
Her heart thudded painfully.
“This isn’t fair,” she whispered.
“It’s honest.”
“Still unfair.”
“I can live with unfair.”
She swallowed hard. “I can’t.”
He nodded—slowly—like he’d expected that answer but hoped for another.
“Then I’ll ask you one thing,” he said. “And I want the truth.”
Her throat tightened. “…Okay.”
“Did you want to kiss me last night?”
Elena froze.
Every excuse, every denial she’d rehearsed collapsed.
She opened her mouth—
but the stairwell door suddenly slammed open.
⸻
The Interruption, Again
Milo stood there holding a stack of napkins, eyes widening comically.
“Ohhhhhh. Oh NO. Oh YES. Oh—should I leave? I should leave. I didn’t see anything. You’re both clothed, it’s fine.” He slapped the door shut.
Elena wanted to die.
Adrian pinched the bridge of his nose. “Your coworker is… energetic.”
“Don’t even start,” she groaned.
She reached for the door.
“Elena,” he said quietly.
She paused.
“When you’re ready to answer… I’ll be here.”
Her chest tightened painfully.
“Please don’t be,” she whispered.
But he was.
And they both knew he would be tomorrow, too.
⸻
Back on the Floor
When she emerged, Milo grabbed her arm.
“Well?! Did he confess? Did you confess? Did you two have a dramatic forbidden-stairwell moment?”
“Milo,” she said, voice strangled, “I need you to pretend you never saw anything.”
“Impossible. I’ve already told Kara, the pastry chef, and the dishwasher who barely speaks English but somehow understood perfectly.”
Elena groaned. “I’m going to move to another country.”
“No you’re not,” Milo said. “Because this is getting GOOD.”
⸻
The Shift Continues
All day, she caught glimpses of Adrian through windows, reflections, passing hallways—
until he left the building.
But his last look lingered heavy on her skin.
A question.
A plea.
A promise.
Elena told herself to forget it.
Forget him.
Forget the way he’d said I don’t care about my last name when I’m with you.
It didn’t work.
Nothing about him had ever been forgettable.
And that, she realized, was exactly the problem.
- Writer
- chap_listContents
- likeADD