A Kiss for the Don

Angelica’s POV Ugh… The white-hot and relentless pain seared through my skull as consciousness clawed its way back. I pressed a palm against my forehead, which was already slick with sweat, and the metallic scent of rust and oil lingered in the air. My body felt heavy against the cold wall, and my head continued spinning from the echo of something… voices. Low, muffled vibrations rolled through the dim air beside me. A Man's angry voice. “Does she look anything like the one I asked you wusses to bring me?” That voice—My stomach flipped. No… it can’t be. Adrian? I blinked hard, struggling to focus my vision as I turned my head toward the sound. His broad shoulders wrapped in a fitted black shirt faced me, and the edges of that tattoo just barely peeked past his collar. Even from here, the energy radiating off him was unmistakable and controlled. “Do you not have eyes…? Are you three blind or something?” His voice cut through the stillness, and it echoed around the wide, empty space of the storage room. “I asked you to bring me her husband’s mistress,” he snarled, slapping a palm across his face. “And instead you brought me his wife?” My pulse stuttered. Wife. That’s… me. The three men in black leather masks bowed their heads slightly, with almost pitiful silence. I tried to piece together fragments of memory—the gala, the blinding lights, the glass of champagne slipping from my fingers as I’d told reporters and investors that I wanted a divorce. The headlines. The whispers. The flash of my husband’s glare from across the ballroom before everything went black. Oh God… My hand found the metal edge beneath me. I was lying on a cold iron shelf, and my head continued to pound with each heartbeat. I clenched my jaw and pushed myself upright, gritting my teeth through the dizziness. One of the masked men dared a step forward. “We’re terribly sorr—” “Get out of my sight.” Adrian’s voice dropped, pointing a steady finger toward the door. The three scrambled out, pounding their boots against the floor, as the sound slowly faded into silence. He let out a long, tired sigh, and I swallowed, my throat raw. “A… Adrian?” He turned his head slightly, enough for the light to catch the sharp lines of his face… those steel-gray eyes that never gave anything away. “Angel…” His tone didn’t waver, not even a flicker of surprise. “You’re awake.” Of course. That calm façade of his. The same one that made people believe he was untouchable. I stared at him, with a heart that continued to thud against my ribs. “If I hadn’t overheard your conversation just now,” my voice continued to tremble despite how hard I tried to steady it, “I’d think you rescued me from that chaos because you cared… Because I had no reason to doubt you.” He didn’t move. Didn’t blink. I pressed forward, as the anger curled in my chest. “But now…” I let out a bitter and broken laugh under my breath. “You were trying to do what? Kidnap me? Really, Adrian?” My breath hitched. “I thought we were close. Didn’t you say I could trust you?” My voice cracked. “You did say that… right?” He said nothing for a while. The silence between us grew thick, heavy enough to suffocate. Then he finally moved—took a slow breath, stepped to the side, and dragged a wooden chair across the floor. He flipped the chair backward, facing the backrest towards me, and sat down. His arms folded over it, locking his unreadable eyes onto mine. He leaned forward slowly, causing a creak from the legs of his chair against the concrete floor, and for a moment, the heavy air between us shifted. His gaze found mine, those hazel eyes burning under the low, fractured light, my lips parted before I even realized it, and I hated that he still had that effect on me. “Shouldn’t you…” His voice dropped, “Listen to what it is I have to say?” I scoffed, trying to mask the tremor in my voice with sharpness. “Your men sedated, grabbed, and brought me here against my will. And you were careless enough to let me find out you were behind it.” I crossed my arms, biting down on the sting in my chest. “And what… just because I’m growing an affection for you…” I raised two fingers and twitched them mockingly, “You really think I’ll be in the mood to hear whatever it is you have to say?” I pushed myself off the metal shelf; my legs felt unsteady, but I still started past him. I could practically feel his stare following me, weighing every step I took. But before I could make it two paces, his form hand shot out— curling his fingers around my arm. I froze. The strength in his grip made my pulse stutter, and I turned sharply, glaring down at him. “Let go of me.” He didn’t. Adrian rose to his full height, scraping the echoes of the chair’s legs behind him as he stepped closer—so close I could feel the heat radiating off him. His voice came low, and his breath ghosted against my skin. “Look at the bright side, Angel,” he murmured. “You wanted out of that marriage your tycoon father shoved you into… and I gave you a way out.” He leaned in closer, and I felt his hand slide to the curve of my waist, pulling me in. My breath caught, and every instinct screamed to move, but my body stayed frozen by the storm in his voice. “And that’s not all,” he continued. “I helped you disappear from the chaos you caused after announcing your little plan to divorce that jerk of a husband of yours.” “Let go of me,” I snapped again, as my voice broke under the heat of my own fury. I yanked at his grip, but his hand only tightened. I pushed at his chest, hard. “I said—” He caught me before I could finish. His hand wrapped around my waist fully, drawing me against him, brushing his breath against my ear.