Chapter 4
1113 Words
Elena’s POV
For a moment, I think I'm imagining it. The alcohol, the lights, the music—maybe my mind is playing tricks on me. But the closer he gets to the stage, the more exposed his face becomes. The thin line between my imagination and reality depletes.
It's him. He's here. Why?
He strides through the crowd like he owns the place. As usual, his presence isn't hard to miss—it commands attention. Whispers ripple through the room, and in no time, everyone has turned to catch a glimpse of the man walking through.
His eyes lock on mine, and the fury in them is unmistakable.
Oh, this is going to be fun.
One of the male models reaches out to me with a slice of apple in his mouth, gesturing for me to take it. Knowing Adrian is staring, I open my mouth slightly and take the piece, running my hands over the model's chiseled abs.
Lily and Brad, totally oblivious to the sudden presence, cheer from the crowd.
"Go, Lena!"
Adrian reaches the edge of the stage, jaw tight, shoulders tense. For the first time since our last encounter, he looks like his world is ending.
And it makes my heart bubble with satisfaction.
"Get down. Now." He barks.
The crowd notices and stares at him. The attention is on us now. Lily and Brad have noticed the extra presence. They stop cheering and stand up. I wave at them, signaling that I'm fine.
I tilt my head, smiling sweetly. "Are you stalking me, Adrian?"
His expression darkens. "Don't be ridiculous."
"Then you have no right to interfere." I gesture around the club, telling the servers to continue. "We're divorced. Remember?"
Behind him, a group of well-dressed men exchange glances. I recognize a few—his business partners, old college friends. Their faces range from confused to shocked.
One of them leans toward another, voice low but not low enough. "That's his wife?"
"I thought he wasn't married."
"Wait—they're divorcing?"
Adrian's jaw clenches. He heard them too.
A tall man with silver-rimmed glasses steps forward, smooth and diplomatic. "We came because we heard the wine here is excellent. No need for misunderstandings."
He's the only one among them who attempts to be less fazed. Our relationship had been secret for a while. Or, a better way to put it—we only cared to tell people close to us about the wedding. Hence why Adrian could go out with another woman, and half the world would call her his true love.
I nod graciously. "Then please, enjoy yourselves. I know I am."
I turn back to Lily and Brad, to the music, and to the warmth of bodies moving around me. I take another sip of my drink and let the bass vibrate through my chest.
Let him watch.
Let him see what it looks like when I don't need him.
But Adrian doesn't leave.
I can feel his eyes on me. Burning. Possessive.
I dance closer to one of the models—tall, dark-haired, Italian accent. He spins me, hands respectful but close. I laugh, tipping my head back.
The music pounds.
And then a hand closes around my wrist.
"Enough."
Adrian's voice is low, he pulls me toward the edge of the dance floor. I stumble slightly, but he doesn't let go.
Brad steps forward immediately, blocking Adrian's path. "Hey. She doesn't want to go with you, freak!"
Adrian's glare could cut glass. "This is none of your business. She's my wife."
"Ex-wife," I correct, teasing him. It's the liquor, I'm sure, but I've never felt more mischievous than I do now.
"She's my friend," Brad says firmly. "That makes it my business."
Tension crackles between them. For a second, I think Adrian might throw a punch. But Brad is a surf instructor—the time spent steadying his board on waves is enough training to make this more than an equal match. He'd knock Adrian down in one blow.
I place a hand on Brad's shoulder. "It's okay. I'll handle this."
Brad hesitates, eyes searching mine. "Are you sure?"
"I'm sure."
Reluctantly, he steps aside. But his eyes don't leave Adrian. Adrian pulls me into a quieter corner of the bar, away from the music and the lights and the laughter.
The moment we're alone, he releases my wrist like I've burned him.
"What the hell are you doing?" he hisses.
"Having fun. You remember fun, don't you? Or has Vivian sucked that out of you too?"
His face goes hard. "You're acting like I'm dead."
I meet his eyes, unflinching. "You are. You're my ex-husband."
"We're not divorced yet."
"That's a you problem. Not mine. I already signed those papers."
He looks me up and down—slowly, deliberately. My short dress. My loose hair. The drink is still in my hand.
"So desperate you'll take anyone?" His voice drips with disdain. "You don't find other men dirty?"
I know what he's doing. Adrian has always been obsessed with cleanliness, with control, with purity—just like his mother, who left him as a child. As much as he hated being abandoned, he's not far from her.
I lean in, close enough that he can smell the wine on my breath. "Dirty or not," I say softly, "I like it. And if you can't stand it, Adrian—stay away from me."
His jaw tightens. His hands curl into fists at his sides.
"That skirt," he says through gritted teeth, "is too short."
I laugh. Actually laugh. "You don't get to tell me what to wear anymore."
"You're embarrassing yourself."
"No. I'm embarrassing you. There's a difference."
His breathing is uneven now. We're standing too close. The air between us is thick, suffocating. His eyes drop to my mouth. For a moment—just a moment—I think he might kiss me. Or yell at me. Maybe both.
"Adrian?"
The voice cuts through the tension like a knife. We both freeze. Vivian stands a few feet away, perfectly styled in a cream silk blouse and tailored pants. Her expression is carefully neutral, but I catch the flicker of surprise in her eyes.
"I didn't realize you were bringing..." She pauses, searching for the right word. "...company."
I smile. Sweet. Poisonous. "He didn't bring me."
I want to tell them I own this place. That I could have them escorted out with one word to security. That every bottle of wine they're about to drink came from my mother's vineyard.
But instead, I bite back the words.
Let them think I'm running away. They'll find out soon enough.
- Writer
