The billionaire's forbidden pit stop

Episode 12: Catching Smoke

Asaliya looked directly at Adrian, her chest heaving as the cold metal of the SUV pressed against her back. The proximity was suffocating. She absolutely did not have any idea about Adrian's sexuality; she had merely written those scandalous, fictional relationship rumors to make him deeply uncomfortable, to puncture his pristine, untouchable billionaire armor, and to tear his focus away from the racetrack. But standing here in the near-total darkness of the private avenue, trapped beneath his massive frame, it looked like she was thoroughly caught in her own trap. She tried to run away, shifting her weight to violently twist out of his hold, but she could not budge an inch against his strength.

Her mind raced frantically, panicking under the intense, dark gravity of his gaze. Driven by sheer, desperate bravado, the words just slipped out of her mouth before she could stop them.

"Yes," Asaliya breathed, her voice trembling but sharp. "I wanna test it."

She didn't even know what that meant. The reckless defiance had simply erupted from her lips as a defense mechanism, a foolish attempt to call his bluff.

Adrian’s lips slowly curled into a dark, knowing smirk. He didn't loose his grip on her wrist even a fraction. Instead, his other hand traveled upward, his long, powerful fingers expertly grabbing the side of her neck, his thumb resting right over her pounding pulse point. He leaned his head down, burying his face in the crook of her shoulder, and deeply inhaled. He smelled her scent, letting the fragrance wash over his senses in the quiet dark.

"Lavender," Adrian whispered against her skin, a slow, dangerous smile spreading across his handsome face.

He tilted his head, his dark, scary eyes locking onto her lips as he leaned in closer, mimicking the exact trajectory of a kiss. He came so close she could feel the electric heat radiating from his mouth. Asaliya stood completely frozen, her breath hitching sharply in her throat, her heart hammering wildly against her ribs. She braced herself, her eyes wide with a sudden, paralyzing shock—but right before his lips could touch hers, Adrian abruptly backed off.

He let out a low, mocking chuckle, his eyes gleaming with pure amusement. He had just teased her, thoroughly breaking her stubborn composure with a single calculated move.

Furious at being played so easily, Asaliya’s survival instincts flared into pure rage. She swung her free hand, aiming a vicious, blinding slap straight toward his face. But Adrian’s reaction speed was superhuman; he caught her hand mid-air, his large fingers clamping around her fingers before the blow could connect.

He leaned down again, his voice shifting into an incredibly dark, intensely flirty register that sent a chill straight down her spine. "You have gone too far, sweetheart. Get ready from tomorrow to be right by my side. If you're going to write about me, you might as well do it from the front row. Then you can finally know *many* secrets about me."

"Go to hell, you absolute piece of trash! Let go of me, you f*****g psycho!" Asaliya hissed, violently yanking her hands back as he finally released his grip. She didn't fully comprehend what he meant by forcing her to his side, but she knows it is something deeply controlling, restrictive, and not good for her freedom. Without another second of hesitation, she snatched her canvas bag from the concrete bench and ran away into the night, her limp forgotten as she fled the dark avenue.

Adrian didn't pursue her. Instead, he slowly turned his head, his gaze traveling upward toward the dimly lit, open window of the commercial building right beside the avenue. He smirked into the darkness. It was the distinct, unsettling look of someone who knew something secret—someone who had just laid a meticulous trap and was simply waiting for the prey to walk right into the center of it.

Thousands of miles away, the atmosphere was entirely different.

Felix was sitting inside the ultra-exclusive Sydney VIP lounge, a highly luxurious, opulent club that poor people could not even dream of stepping foot inside. The room was washed in deep crimson velvet, gold accents, and low ambient lighting. Felix was lounging back on a private leather sofa, swirling an expensive glass of amber liquor in his hand, currently on a secure international call with Adrian.

"No, *putain*, you did not actually say that to her!" Felix roared with laughter, his heavy French accent echoing loudly in the private booth. "Adrian, you are a literal menace! The great, emotionless world champion is out here playing the dark, possessive villain in the middle of the night? I love it!"

Adrian’s low, gravelly voice crackled through the phone speaker. "She's getting too comfortable, Felix. The traditional legal threats aren't stopping her. I had to change the parameters."

"Ah, so if you cannot control the little reporter using your corporate power or your massive billions, you decide to use your natural talent?" Felix teased, taking a long sip of his drink. He paused, his tone shifting into a slightly more grounded, protective register. "But seriously, Adrian... don't go too far with this game. She might just be an innocent girl caught up in some freelance tabloid nonsense. Don't play with her emotions too harshly. You are a dangerous man when you want to be."

Through the line, Felix could distinctly hear the faint, low sound of Adrian smiling.

Felix arched an eyebrow, a knowing grin returning to his face. "Why the hell are you smiling, Novak? What is so funny?"

"I’m just listening to you lecturing me about not playing with girls," Adrian mocked flatly over the line. "Especially when I can literally hear the distinct giggling of three different women in the background of your VIP room, Felix."

"Oh, please! Today is incredibly boring, Adrian. There are absolutely no good girls around here tonight. That giggling is purely your vivid, lonely imagination playing tricks on you! I am a solitary man of focus right now!"

Felix leaned back, his eyes gleaming as he immediately pivoted back to the juicy details Adrian had shared, ready to drag his friend through the mud with the most vulgar jokes he could think of.

"So, tell me the truth, did your little Novak-GTI engine finally start running when you gripped her neck?" Felix grinned, his voice dropping into a dirty, mocking whisper. "Because the fanfiction writers say you have a very high-torque setup, Adrian. Did you want to push her skirt up and shift into top gear right there against the SUV? You should have shown her how a world champion handles the tightest corners! If you had pinned her down and given her a real, hard demonstration of your aerodynamics, she would have stopped writing those fake articles about you and Ren. Next time, just take her right there on the bonnet—give her something real to write about in her next column!"

Adrian remained silent for a long moment on the other end, the heavy weight of his regret palpable. He realized, with absolute certainty, that it had been an entirely foolish, idiotic mistake to tell this specific scene to a drunken, unhinged Felix.

"I'm hanging up," Adrian muttered coldly.

"Wait, wait! Don't be like that! Tell me if she—"

*Click.*

The call disconnected, leaving Felix laughing loudly to himself. He tossed the phone onto the table, thoroughly amused by his friend's irritation. He finished the rest of his liquor, feeling the heavy, warm buzz of the alcohol thoroughly settling into his veins.

He stood up, swaying slightly as he prepared to leave the VIP room to head back to his luxury hotel. Just as he reached for his jacket, the heavy oak door opened. A young lounge waitress stepped into the room, carrying a fresh, expensive bottle of vintage wine on a silver platter. She looked tiny, remarkably innocent, and entirely out of place in the chaotic, high-stakes energy of the luxury club.

Felix, heavily intoxicated and operating on pure, reckless impulse, looked down at her. The alcohol clouded his judgment entirely. As she leaned forward to place the bottle on the table, asking softly if he required anything else, Felix reached out, his hand casually attempting to touch her waist in a smooth, drunken flirtatious gesture.

But the girl was incredibly fast. The moment his fingers brushed the fabric of her vest, she violently flinched away, her eyes widening in fear. She pulled the silver platter tightly against her chest and sprinted out of the room, slamming the door shut behind her.

Felix stood perfectly still in the empty room, looking completely confused. He blinked heavily, shaking his head side to side to clear the fog in his brain. "What the hell...?" he muttered to himself, thoroughly baffled by the sudden, intense rejection as he stumbled out into the corridor.

Back in his private city apartment, Adrian was experiencing a completely different kind of torment.

The rooms were quiet, cast in sharp, minimalist monochrome tones. He was dressed in a clean black shirt, trying desperately to focus his mind on the massive mountain of business work piling up on his laptop before his flight to Japan tomorrow afternoon. His luggage was sitting half-packed near the walk-in closet, the orderly neatness of his life laid out in perfect lines.

But his concentration was entirely broken.

He leaned over his desk, his breathing heavy as he tried to analyze a data sheet, but his gaze kept drifting sideways. Sitting on the corner of the dark mahogany shelf was a sleek, minimalist ceramic vase. Arranged neatly inside it were fresh, blooming sprigs of dried lavender.

The subtle, sweet floral aroma traveled through the air, instantly hitting his senses. In a split second, the quiet security of the room dissolved. His mind violently dragged him back to the dark avenue—to the soft, pale skin of Asaliya's neck, the rapid, terrified hitch of her breath against his lips, and the fierce, unbroken hatred burning in her eyes. The scent was a toxic, inescapable ghost, completely invading his calculated, disciplined world.

A sudden, monstrous wave of frustration exploded in his chest.

Adrian lunged sideways, his large hand violently sweeping across the shelf. He grabbed the ceramic vase and smashed it brutally down onto the hard hardwood floor.

*CRASH!*

The ceramic shattered into a hundred jagged pieces, shards of white clay and broken purple lavender sprigs exploding violently across the room.

Adrian stood perfectly still in the center of the wreckage, his chest heaving aggressively. He raised both of his large, trembling hands, burying his fingers deep into his own long, blonde-streaked hair, violently pulling at the strands as he let out a low, frustrated growl into the empty room. He couldn't shake her from his thoughts. The trap was set, the pieces were moving, and the dark, inescapable gravity of the storm was about to pull them both under.