Five-The knock that changed everything
1393 Words
If laughter could kill, my best friend, Tessa, would have buried me five times by now.
“You’re delusional,” she said between fits of giggles, sprawled across my couch like she paid rent. “There’s no universe where pineapple belongs on pizza. You should be arrested for crimes against humanity.”
I rolled my eyes so hard they almost slipped out of my head. “You drink milk with spaghetti. Your taste buds are already on life support, babe.”
She gasped dramatically, clutching her chest. “That’s culture! Italian grandmothers would weep at your disrespect.”
“An Italian grandmother would slap you.” I tossed a pillow at her face, which she caught with the reflexes of a seasoned fighter.
The banter was easy, the kind of back-and-forth that stitched up the frayed edges of my days. Tessa had been my anchor through everything. The stress of Dad’s debts, the collapsing business, and my failed attempt at convincing myself that one wild night with a stranger hadn’t left a permanent burn in my brain.
And just when I was about to counter her latest “pineapple is Satan’s fruit” argument, the doorbell rang.
Tessa froze mid-sentence, head snapping toward the door like a meerkat spotting a predator.
“Were you expecting anyone?” she whispered.
“No,” I whispered back, equally suspicious. “Unless Domino’s suddenly knocks like the IRS.”
She tiptoed to the door, exaggerated like we were in a horror movie. I was still rolling my eyes when her scream ripped through the apartment.
“Elara!” she screeched. “Get your ass here right now. There’s a freaking GOD at the door!”
I frowned. “What—”
“NOW!”
Her tone carried the kind of hysteria that made me drop everything and rush over. And then I saw him.
And my heart missed five beats.
It was him.
The man. The stranger. The one-night mistake I couldn’t scrub out of my mind no matter how many showers I took or glasses of wine I drowned myself in. He stood there like some untouchable statue brought to life. He was towering, perfectly dressed in a tailored dark suit, eyes colder than steel and twice as sharp.
He was even more devastating than I remembered, like my memory had dimmed him down for my own protection.
And now here he was, standing at my front door.
My lips parted, but no sound came out. When I finally managed to pull my face into something resembling a smile, the ice in his gaze melted it right off.
“Uh… hi?” My voice cracked. Smooth, Elara. Real smooth.
“What the actual hell,” I blurted before my brain could stop me, “are you doing here? Don’t tell me you’re some kind of stalker, because I promise you, I’m not interesting enough to stalk.”
Tessa slapped my arm in disbelief, whisper-yelling, “Why would you say that to him?!”
But he didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. He just looked at me, calm and unbothered, as if my panic was background noise.
“Can I come in?” His voice was low, smooth, and irritatingly commanding.
“Uh… sure?” I stammered, stepping aside.
Tessa, bless her unfiltered soul, stood there gaping like he’d just descended from Olympus. If I didn’t know her better, I’d have sworn she was about to ask him to autograph her boobs.
I tried to hide the storm raging inside me. Shock. Nerves. Desire. The memory of his hands on me that night—rough, consuming—came crashing back with such force I almost swayed on my feet.
Was I imagining this? Did thinking about someone too much summon them to your door? Because if so, my subconscious needed to calm the hell down.
I cleared my throat. “Seriously, though… what are you doing here? If this is a stalking situation, you should know I have a broom and I’m not afraid to use it.”
“Don’t flatter yourself.” he replied coldly.
Ouch.
I narrowed my eyes. “Okay, then how do you know where I live?”
“I have my ways, Elara.”
“And my name too? What, do your ways come with a background check?”
That earned me the faintest flicker of amusement in his eyes, but it vanished as quickly as it came.
“I need to talk to you.” he said, voice clipped.
“Oh God,” I muttered, panic shooting through me. “Is this about… is this about that night? Do you have an infection? Did I give you something? No, wait, I’m clean! Maybe you’re the one who—oh my God, am I dying?”
“Elara!” Tessa hissed, mortified.
Heat flooded my face. He was watching me with an expression somewhere between bored and unimpressed.
“In private,” he added, casting a glance at Tessa, who was still openly staring at him like she was auditioning for the role of ‘Stunned Bystander #1.’
If I weren’t too busy spiraling, I’d have laughed. Instead, I nodded stiffly. “Fine. Come with me.”
I led him down the hallway, my pulse in my throat, into my bedroom. The air in there shifted the second he stepped inside, heavy and charged. His gaze flicked over my bed, lingering for half a heartbeat too long. I followed his eyes and instantly regretted it. The memory of tangled sheets and gasping breaths hit me so hard my knees weakened.
Stop it, Elara. Breathe.
He didn’t waste time. “I need you to enter into a contract with me.”
I blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”
“A contractual arrangement. Renewable every year. In exchange, I’ll cover your debts. Everything your father owes, everything your family’s business is drowning under, I’ll take care of it. And anything else you need.”
I stared, completely floored. “How… how the hell do you know about that?”
His expression didn’t shift. “I have my ways.”
“You’re digging up dirt on me now? Are you like… a mob boss or something?”
“Not even close.”
“Then what the hell are you?”
His eyes cut through me, unreadable. “That doesn’t matter. What matters is this, you’ll play a role. My fiancée.”
My jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”
“You’ll attend functions with me. Dinners, galas, business events. You’ll be photographed at my side. You’ll be seen as mine.”
I nearly choked. “Yours? Do I look like a handbag to you?”
His lips twitched. It was almost a smirk, but too controlled to fully break through.
“It’s not about you,” he said smoothly. “It’s about appearances. And in return, your problems disappear. Completely.”
I folded my arms, glaring at him. “So let me get this straight. You show up at my door like some kind of debt fairy godfather, throw this insane fake-fiancée idea at me, and expect me to say yes?”
“Are you in?” His voice was steady, his eyes locked on mine like he already knew the answer.
“You can’t just—just dump all of this on me and demand I decide on the spot!” I shot back, exasperated.
“So you want to think about it?”
“Yes!”
“Good. You have twenty-four hours.”
Before I could argue, he slipped a card into my hand. My fingers closed around the smooth weight of it, my brain short-circuiting.
“When you have your answer, call me.”
He turned to leave, pausing at the door.
“Oh, and Elara?” His gaze flicked toward Tessa, who was still frozen in place outside the room, mouth hanging open. “This is confidential. Not even your… wide-eyed statue over there can know.”
My jaw dropped as he muttered casually, “Have a good day, Elara.” and walked out of my apartment.
The door clicked shut behind him.
I blinked. Once. Twice.
Did that just happen?
Then I looked down at the card in my hand.
Adrian Vance.
I swallowed hard.
I was definitely looking him up. Because what the actual hell just happened to my life?
- Writer
