Temptation in the Boardroom

Chapter Eleven – The Aftermath

Adrian’s POV

The mirror was mocking me.

I had never taken this long to get dressed for an event in my life. My tailor had outdone himself with the tuxedo, and my barber had given me the perfect trim. On any other night, I would have been satisfied with the way I looked clean, sharp, the picture of a New York man who knew how to command a room. But tonight, satisfaction was not enough. Tonight, Isabella was coming.

And I wasn’t sure how to prepare for what that meant.

I adjusted my cufflinks for the third time, then the bow tie, then the cufflinks again. My palms were sweating, ridiculous considering the hotel suite was chilled. I walked to the minibar at the entrance, poured myself a drink, and then abandoned it untouched. Nothing could still the restless energy running through me.

Because the truth was simple: I didn’t just want her to attend the gala. I wanted her to walk into it with me. Side by side. A statement.

It was insane, risky, maybe even reckless. Everyone who mattered in New York’s business and political circles would be there. I had a reputation to protect. She had her career. And yet, despite all the reasons to keep this… thing… hidden, I knew I couldn’t stand to watch her walk in alone or, worse, with someone else.

Tonight, I would claim her not in words, not in some brazen display but in something subtle and undeniable: walking in together.

I looked at my watch and it was almost time for her arrival. I left the reception bar and went outside to receive her. I had had multiple colleagues offer that we enter together when they saw me at the bar but I had insisted that I was expecting someone, most of them looked at me in a bizarre way but I honestly couldn’t care less about their thoughts.

As I looked up, I saw her, saw her strutting, the way her hips sway to the rhythm of her walk.

For a heartbeat, my chest tightened. I smoothed my jacket, squared my shoulders, and prepared to receive her. When she reached me, the world stopped.

Isabella stood there in an emerald-green gown that seemed spun out of midnight dreams. The fabric clung to her in ways that made it impossible to look away, accentuating curves I had already memorized from stolen moments but never truly appreciated until now. The slit on the side teased, and the delicate straps of her dress left her shoulders bare, glowing against her skin.

And then there was her face.

Confident, luminous, yet tinged with the kind of nervousness she tried to hide but that I knew was there. Her lips curved in the smallest of smiles, and her eyes; God, her eyes, met mine with a mixture of uncertainty and trust.

I forgot to breathe.

“You…” My voice caught, uncharacteristically rough. f**k! I am a very eloquent man, why am I struggling with words. I finally managed to say “Stunning doesn’t even begin to cover it”

Her cheeks warmed, and she glanced away as if to deflect the compliment. But I stepped closer, unwilling to let the moment slip by. When I heard her say “You clean up well yourself, Mr. Cole.” I wanted to kiss my name off her lips. I have forgotten to like how she says Mr. Cole just because of how the name rolls off her tongue effortlessly as if the name was created for her pleasure.

“We’re walking in together,” I said, low, firm, leaving no room for argument.

Her eyes flicked back to mine, wide, searching. “Adrian… is that wise? You know people will…”

“I don’t care what they will say.” My voice carried more weight than I intended, but I meant every word. “Let them talk. I want to walk into that room with you. Not behind you. Not in secret. With you.”

She hesitated, her lips parting, doubt dancing across her face. But then she gave the faintest nod, almost imperceptible, and relief flooded me.

I offered my arm. “Shall we?”

The contact was electric when her hand slid into the crook of my elbow. It was such a small thing, but it sent a message to her, to me, and soon, to everyone else that Isabella was not just another face in the crowd. She was mine.

The gala shimmered with chandeliers, laughter, and the muted clinking of glasses. Music floated through the air, a carefully curated background to the grandeur of the night. Normally, I would have slipped into autopilot, smiling, shaking hands, offering rehearsed pleasantries. But tonight, my senses were sharpened, hyperaware of the woman at my side.

The first ripple went through the room almost immediately. Whispers traveled quickly, heads turned discreetly, and eyes followed us as we walked across the marbled floor. Some smiles were curious, others sly, a few outright judgmental.

Let them.

Isabella held her head high, but I felt the slight tightening of her fingers against my arm, the only sign of the storm she must have felt inside. I squeezed her hand lightly in reassurance. “Ignore them,” I murmured. “We are here for the gala, nothing more.”

She glanced up, and the faintest smile touched her lips. That was enough.

We made the rounds. Politicians, CEOs, wives in dazzling jewelry, young men trying too hard to impress; all of them greeted me, then looked at her with veiled curiosity. I watched every expression, every shift in tone, ready to shield her from anything sharp.

Bella approached at one point, her smile perfectly polite but her eyes flicking between Isabella and me with questions she didn’t dare voice.

“Adrian,” she said smoothly. “Oh, Hi Isabella”

“Hi Aurora,” Isabella replied graciously, though I noticed the subtle tension in her posture.

Aurora’s gaze lingered a second too long, then she turned back to me. “Well, you certainly know how to make an entrance tonight.”

I smiled thinly. “That’s the point of a gala, isn’t it?”

Aurora’s laugh was soft but knowing. “Of course.” Then she drifted away, leaving behind the faint scent of suspicion.

I ignored it.

When the band began to play a slower song, I didn’t give Isabella the chance to retreat. I guided her to the dance floor, my hand finding the small of her back. She stiffened for a moment, then melted into the rhythm as we swayed together.

Holding her like that, close, yet still respectable enough for the crowd was both bliss and torment. Her perfume wrapped around me, her warmth pressed against me, and every step made it harder to remember why restraint mattered.

“You shouldn’t be doing this,” she whispered once, her eyes darting nervously to the people watching.

“I told you,” I murmured back, my lips near her ear. “I don’t care.”

But I did care; about her, about how fragile this balance was, about how much I wanted her to feel safe in this madness.

So I held her carefully, reverently, as if she might break

The night blurred with handshakes, laughter, speeches, and endless small talk. Through it all, Isabella never left my side. And I never let her.

When at last it was time to leave, I insisted on driving her. The car ride was quiet, charged with all the words unsaid. She sat with her hands folded neatly, staring out the window, while I gripped the steering wheel too tightly.

At one point, our fingers brushed on the center console. Neither of us moved away.

When I pulled up outside her apartment, the silence stretched. She turned to me, her face soft in the dim light. For a heartbeat, I nearly leaned in, nearly crossed the line we had both danced around for months.

But she stopped.

Because if I kissed her now, it would be about heat, about desire. And what I wanted from Isabella was more.

Her eyes searched mine, lingering a moment longer before she nodded. “Goodnight, Adrian.”

She stepped out of the car, and with her absence, the night felt emptier.

The next morning, I woke earlier than usual, restless. I stared at my phone for ten minutes before finally making the call. The florist answered, cheerful, oblivious.

“Yes, I want the best roses you have. Red. A full bouquet. And a note.”

My pen hovered for a long time trying to decide what to write on the note. Not too much, not too little. Just enough to say what last night meant. I couldn’t find the right words.

When the delivery was arranged, I leaned back in my chair, exhaling. It wasn’t enough; how could flowers ever be enough to capture the storm Isabella had become in my life? But it was a start.

For now, it would have to do.

Because last night, as risky as it was, had made one thing clear.

I didn’t just want Isabella in secret. I wanted her in the light.

And I would find a way.