Craving my sister’s fiancé

Chapter 21

Adrian’s POV

I flashed a wide, toothy grin, my eyes crinkling into narrow slits as I studied her expression. It was the exact mixture of horror and disbelief I’d been aiming for. "Do you like it?" I asked, my voice humming with a bit of mischief.

"Adrian, you are crazy," she breathed, her brow furrowing as her hand hovered near my scalp but didn't quite touch. "Why would you do something like this?"

"You told me to shave it," I said, jutting my bottom lip out in a mock pout. "So, I did."

"I was joking! And besides," she gestured vaguely toward the chaos of the set, "what are the producers going to say about... this?"

"Actually, they’re obsessed." I jerked a thumb toward the monitors. The producers were huddled together, nodding and waving with frantic, eager smiles. "They think it’s the next 'it' look. Apparently, I’m starting a buzz-cut revolution. Who knows? Maybe you’ll be next."

She rolled her eyes so hard I thought they might get stuck. I suppressed a smirk—I secretly lived for that reaction.

"Adrian! We're live in two!" the floor manager shouted.

"Duty calls," I said, throwing her a wink before heading toward the lights.

God, I loathed this script. Every line felt like ash in my mouth, but the "fans" needed their fix. The worst part was the kissing scenes. The female lead moved her mouth like a confused fish, and her breath—while not "bad"—had a cloying, sugary scent that made my skin crawl.

"That’s a wrap!" the director bellowed.

Finally. I sank into the makeup chair, closing my eyes as the team began dabbing at my face with cold cream. When I opened them, Daphne was gone.

I didn't have to wait long. The door swung open and she slipped back in, holding a wax-paper bag. "Here. I tracked down that sandwich you like."

The smell of toasted rye hit me, and my stomach did a grateful flip. "You really didn't have to do that."

"Fine, give it back then." she teased, reaching for the bag. I pulled it closer, a genuine laugh bubbling up.

By the time the makeup team cleared out, leaving the two of us in the sudden silence of the dressing room, Daphne had already drifted off in the corner armchair. I stood up quietly and drifted toward her. A stray lock of hair had fallen across her cheek; I leaned in, carefully tucking it back.

She was undeniably beautiful. I traced the line of her nose with my eyes—it was delicate, perfect. I could see why Stefan was so pathetic for her. But it was a shame, really. Daphne was going to be the weapon that leveled his entire world. This "relationship" was a convenient lie for the cameras, but for me, it was the long game. I was going to use her to dismantle the family that destroyed mine, piece by piece.

Suddenly, her eyes jolted open. She let out a sharp, jagged scream, her body recoiling into the chair. I flinched, losing my balance and hitting the floor with a dull thud.

"What were you doing?" she gasped, pulling her knees to her chest as if to shield herself.

"Relax," I said, pushing myself up and dusting off my pants, my heart still hammering against my ribs. "I was just mesmerized by your beauty. Is it a crime to admire the view?"

She blinked, her chest heaving as she looked around the empty room. "Where... where did everyone go?"

"Gone. And we should be as well," I said, tilting my head toward the door.

She let out a resigned sigh but gathered my gear anyway, trailing behind me to the car. I kept my eyes on the road, the hum of the engine filling the silence until I pulled the sleek vehicle into my own driveway.

"Why are we stopping at your place?" she asked, her brow twitching in confusion.

"I can’t possibly lug all that equipment upstairs myself," I said, holding up my hands and wiggling my fingers. "I have to protect the talent. I’d hate to ruin my hands with manual labor." I threw her a wink and stepped out before she could protest, though I could practically feel the heat of the glare she was burning into the back of my head.

Inside, she dumped the bags with a heavy thud. As she turned to leave, I blocked her path. "Where are you going? I need a partner to rehearse these lines."

"And how is that a me problem?" she snapped, her eyes narrowing.

"It’s a 'you' problem because you’re my girlfriend, remember?"

She let out a frustrated whine, her fingers raking through her hair, pushing the strands back from her face. "I honestly think we should stop this. This whole pretense... it isn't working, Adrian."

A cold spike of alarm hit my chest, but I kept my face a mask of mild confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Stefan knows about us," she said, her voice dropping into a frustrated whisper. "And he doesn't care. It doesn't seem to bother him at all."

I let out a sharp, dry scoff and took a slow, predatory step toward her. She instinctively retreated, her back hitting the wall. "You think he’d just break down? He’s engaged to your sister, Daphne. Even if he were dying of jealousy, he’d never show it." I leaned in closer, dropping my voice to a soothing, manipulative purr. "Trust me. We keep this going, and you’ll get the answers you’re looking for soon enough."

The tension in her shoulders bled away, replaced by a slow, hesitant smile. "You know, maybe you’re right. I guess losing the hair made you a little smarter."

I gave her a half-shrug, already moving toward the pantry. "Come on. I’ll cook you something."

"I thought you wanted to run lines?"

"We have all night for that," I called over my shoulder, the clatter of a pot hitting the stove punctuating my words.

"Don’t think I’m sleeping over, Adrian! Because I’m not!" she shouted from the other room.

I didn't bother answering. I just smiled to myself as I boiled the water. It was almost funny how much I enjoyed her protests—they made the game more entertaining. I worked quickly, preparing a bowl of spicy ramyeon, the steam rising in savory clouds. When I set the bowl down in front of her in the living room, she looked up with a pout.

"Is this the only thing you know how to make?"

"It’s your favorite," I countered simply.

She didn't argue further, the aroma of the noodles winning her over as she took her first bite. I sat across from her, my chin resting on my palm, watching her every move. Every slurp, every blink, every softened glance—I cataloged it all. She had to fall for me. I needed her heart completely under my thumb, not just for the cameras, but because she was the perfect, unsuspecting key to tearing Stefan’s family apart.