The CEO Unwritten Rule

004 | Unscripted Scandal

​The morning sun hit the marble floors of the Dirgantara estate like a spotlight, but the atmosphere inside was anything but bright. Gisel was in the breakfast nook, sketching the sprawling gardens on a napkin, when Adrian stormed in. He wasn't wearing his usual blazer; his shirt sleeves were rolled up, and his hair was uncharacteristically messy.

​He threw a tablet onto the table, sliding it right over her sketch.

​"Explain this," he demanded.

​Gisel looked down. It was a gossip blog header with a grainy photo of them in the hallway from the night before. The angle made it look like they were mid-kiss, his hand against the wall and their faces inches apart.

​Headline: THE ICE KING MELTS: Who is the Mystery Woman in the Dirgantara Mansion?

​"I didn't take the photo, Adrian," Gisel said, pushing the tablet back. "And if you remember, you were the one pinning me against the wall."

​"It doesn't matter who took it," Adrian snapped, pacing the room like a caged predator. "The board is in a frenzy. They think I’ve lost my focus on the upcoming merger because of a 'distraction.' My grandmother is delighted, which makes the situation even more dangerous."

​"Why is her being happy dangerous?"

​"Because now she’s organized a Charity Gala for tonight," he said, stopping to glare at her. "She wants to officially introduce you to the elite. Every shark in the city will be there, waiting for you to trip over your own feet."

​Gisel stood up, her jaw set. "Then I won’t trip. I’m an artist, Adrian. I’ve spent my life being judged by people who think they know better than me. Your 'sharks' don't scare me."

​Adrian stayed silent for a moment, his eyes scanning her face as if looking for a crack in her resolve. "We’ll see. Candra has already sent over a team of stylists. You have six hours to transform from a street illustrator into a future billionaire’s wife. Don't make me regret choosing you."

​The gala was held in a ballroom that felt like it was made entirely of diamonds. The air was thick with the scent of lilies and expensive perfume. Gisel felt like a different person in a gold, form-fitting gown that shimmered with every step. Her hair was swept up, exposing the elegant line of her neck.

​Adrian was at her side, his hand firm on the small of her back. His touch was cold, but it was the only thing keeping her grounded in the sea of staring eyes.

​"Smile, Gisel," he whispered near her ear, his breath warm against her skin. "They’re looking for a flaw. Give them a masterpiece instead."

​"I'm not a painting, Adrian," she whispered back, flashing a radiant, fake smile at a passing senator.

​The night was a blur of polite insults and hidden agendas. Gisel held her own, using her wit to deflect questions about her background. But the real trouble arrived in the form of a woman in a red dress that screamed for attention.

​"Adrian, darling," the woman said, gliding toward them. "I heard the news, but I didn't believe it. A commoner? Really?"

​Adrian’s grip on Gisel’s back tightened. "Clara. I didn't realize you were on the guest list."

​"I'm on every list," Clara said, her eyes darting to Gisel with pure venom. "So, tell me, Gisel is it true? Did you really meet him while scrubbing the floors of the Grand Atrium?"

​The small circle of socialites around them went quiet, waiting for the explosion.

​Gisel didn't flinch. She took a sip of her champagne and looked Clara straight in the eye. "Actually, I met him while I was breaking something incredibly expensive. It’s a habit of mine. I tend to destroy things that are pretty but have no soul. You should probably be careful, Clara. You look quite fragile tonight."

​Someone in the crowd stifled a laugh. Clara’s face turned a deep shade of crimson. Adrian’s hand on Gisel’s back didn't pull away; instead, his fingers spread slightly, a gesture that felt almost... supportive.

​"If you'll excuse us," Adrian said, his voice smooth and dangerous. "My fiancée and I have a dance to attend to."

​He led her to the center of the floor as the orchestra began a slow, haunting waltz. He pulled her close, much closer than the contract required.

​"That was reckless," Adrian muttered, his eyes locked on hers as they moved in perfect rhythm.

​"It was effective," Gisel countered. "She was bothering you."

​"She is the daughter of my biggest rival," Adrian said, his voice softening just a fraction. "And you just made an enemy of her for life."

​"I've had worse enemies," Gisel said, looking up at him. For the first time, she didn't see the Ice King. She saw a man who was genuinely surprised. "Are you going to thank me, or are you going to lecture me about the four-billion-rupiah vase again?"

​The corners of Adrian’s mouth flickered a ghost of a smile that vanished as quickly as it appeared.

​"Don't push your luck, Gisel."

​As the dance ended, a waiter approached Adrian and whispered something in his ear. Adrian’s expression immediately went back to stone.

​"I have to take a call. Stay here. Do not move," he commanded.

​Gisel watched him walk away. Left alone in the crowd, she felt the walls closing in. She needed air. She slipped through the French doors into the dark gardens, away from the music.

​She walked past the hedges until she reached a stone fountain. But as she turned a corner, she saw something she wasn't supposed to see.

​Adrian was standing in the shadows of the terrace, but he wasn't on a call. He was arguing with Candra, and he was holding a small, weathered leather journal the exact same kind of journal Gisel used for her private sketches.

​"It's not in the study," Adrian hissed, his voice trembling with an emotion Gisel couldn't identify. "If she finds it, the entire 100 day plan is over. She can never know why I really picked her."

​Gisel froze, her heart stopping. He hadn't picked her because of a broken vase. He had picked her because of something in that book.