Red wine and sharp turns
1208 Words
Chapter 5 – Red Wine and Sharp Turns
The invitation came on thick cardstock—off-white with gold trim, the kind of thing that screamed old money with something to prove. Elena stared at it while sitting at one of the tiny café tables in her bakery, a half-eaten lemon tart in front of her, wondering what part of “pretend relationship” involved attending high-end dinner parties with Adrian’s colleagues.
“It’s not a gala,” he’d said over the phone. “Just dinner. Six people, one course too many, and at least one partner’s wife who always tries to corner me about estate planning.”
“And I’m your… what? Your shield?”
“You’re my plus one.”
“You said this thing wasn’t going public.”
“It’s not public. It’s internal.”
“Same pressure, fancier plates.”
Still, she hadn’t said no.
And now, three nights later, she stood in front of a mirror in a bathroom she didn’t recognize, in a house she couldn’t afford to walk past, wearing a black cocktail dress that hugged her in all the right ways and still felt like armor. Her hair was curled, her lipstick sharp, and her earrings subtle enough to look expensive. She looked like someone who belonged in a room full of lawyers who traded lawsuits like birthday gifts.
She did not feel like herself.
“Elena,” Adrian’s voice called softly from the hallway. Not urgent, but… aware. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” she said, adjusting the neckline. “Coming.”
He was waiting at the end of the hallway with two glasses of red wine in his hands. Tonight he wasn’t in one of his usual cutthroat suits. No tie. No pocket square. But still Adrian—clean lines, calm control, a dark gray dress shirt with the top two buttons undone that made her forget briefly how to breathe.
He handed her the wine. Their fingers brushed.
“You clean up well,” she said before she could stop herself.
He looked her over slowly—no heat, just observation, like he was taking stock of a truth he hadn’t expected to like. “So do you.”
The host’s home was straight out of Architectural Digest—marble, glass, moody lighting, and gallery art placed so perfectly it felt fake. There were six people seated at the long table, not counting them. Adrian introduced her smoothly, his hand resting lightly on her back, and for the first few minutes, it felt almost too easy. She played the part. Asked the right questions. Nodded, laughed, sipped. She even got a compliment from one of the wives for her “incredible composure.”
She’d never been called composed before. It felt like being misidentified in public and not correcting the mistake.
Then came the conversation shift.
Someone mentioned a recent scandal—a quiet internal matter involving lost funds, client mismanagement, and rumor.
“Nothing like Daniel Armitage, though,” one of the younger associates said with a smirk, stabbing a piece of roasted beet on his fork. “That guy was a one-man circus.”
The name hit the table like a dropped knife.
Adrian didn’t move, but Elena felt his hand stiffen slightly against the back of her chair.
“I thought we weren’t talking about former associates,” Claire said smoothly, sipping her wine.
The associate shrugged. “I just think it’s funny. He fooled everyone for a while, didn’t he?”
“Not everyone,” Adrian said quietly.
Elena glanced at him. His voice was even, but something in his posture had locked. He was staring at the wine glass in front of him like it might say something if he watched it long enough.
“And now,” the associate went on, unaware of the temperature shift, “he’s just a ghost story we tell interns.”
“Enough,” Adrian said. Not loud. Not forceful. But final.
The silence that followed was thick.
Claire stepped in quickly, changing the subject to a recent court win. Everyone followed. But the energy had changed. Elena felt it in the weight of Adrian’s hand as it slowly left her back, the way his shoulders stayed taut through the next course.
He was unraveling.
And she didn’t know what to do with that.
•
After dessert, after thank-yous and polite goodnights and shoes that pinched, they rode the elevator back down in silence. Adrian held the door open for her like always, but didn’t speak. Didn’t meet her eyes.
It wasn’t until they were outside, the city air cool against her skin, that she finally said, “You okay?”
Adrian stared straight ahead. “Fine.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
He exhaled slowly. “I didn’t expect his name to come up.”
“Neither did I.”
They started walking down the sidewalk, slow and aimless. She kept pace beside him, not pushing, just present.
After a minute, he said, “You know why I fired him, right?”
“You said he was unethical.”
“That’s part of it. The truth is… I vouched for him. Publicly. Repeatedly. I put him in front of people who trusted me and said he was worth their time.”
He stopped walking.
“And he made me a liar.”
Elena’s chest ached.
She touched his arm lightly. “You’re not responsible for his choices.”
“I am,” he said, looking at her. “I brought him in. I shielded him. I gave him cover. The firm still has scars from that, and some of them—Claire, especially—don’t think I’ve earned back the right to choose who I let close.”
The words hung there.
Elena swallowed. “Is that what this is? A test?”
He looked at her then. Really looked. “No.”
Her breath caught.
“This started as strategy,” he said. “But tonight, when he came up, I wasn’t thinking about optics. I was thinking about how you were sitting next to me, and I didn’t want you to be pulled into that mess.”
The wind tugged at her dress. She stepped closer without thinking.
“I’m not afraid of your mess,” she said softly.
“You should be.”
“I’m not.”
He didn’t move.
And for the second time in a week, they stood on the edge of something that wasn’t pretending anymore.
She could’ve kissed him. He could’ve let her.
Instead, he said, “I’ll get you a car.”
She nodded once. Not because she wanted to leave. But because staying might’ve meant breaking the rules they both still pretended to believe in.
The car arrived quickly. Black. Sleek. Professional, like everything in his life.
He opened the door for her.
She paused before getting in. “Thank you. For tonight.”
He looked at her like he wanted to say something more. But he didn’t.
She slid into the car and closed the door.
He watched it pull away.
And in the quiet that followed, Adrian realized he’d made a mistake.
Because he didn’t want her to leave.
Not tonight.
Not anymore.
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