Chapter 27: Before the Cameras
1144 Words
Bonny’s POV
Vomiting cancels romance.
Completely.
Irrevocably.
Within seconds, the penthouse transformed into crisis mode.
Mara appeared with towels.
I guided Kristy to the bathroom.
Adrian stood in the doorway for half a second—clearly out of his depth—then rolled up his sleeves like a man entering a negotiation he could not win but would dominate anyway.
“I require instructions,” he said.
“Wet cloth. Gentle voice. No boardroom tone,” I replied.
He nodded once and vanished.
I helped Kristy rinse her mouth, wipe her face, and change into clean pajamas while murmuring reassurances that felt both instinctive and fragile.
She clung to me.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
My heart broke a little.
“Hey. No apologies for being human, remember?”
She nodded sleepily.
Adrian returned with a glass of water and a cool cloth.
He handed them to me, then hesitated.
“May I?” he asked, nodding toward Kristy.
I blinked.
Permission.
From him.
“Yes.”
He crouched in front of her, movements careful, deliberate.
“Small sips,” he said gently, holding the glass steady.
She obeyed.
Then leaned into him without thinking.
Trust transferred.
I watched that happen in real time.
Something deep shifted.
---
By the time Kristy was settled back into bed—with a bucket nearby, Mara on standby, and strict instructions to call us if needed—it was well past midnight.
I stepped into the hallway and leaned against the wall.
Exhaustion finally caught up.
Adrian joined me a moment later.
“You handled that well,” he said.
“So did you.”
“I followed instructions.”
“You listened. That counts.”
He considered that.
“Noted.”
Silence settled.
Not awkward.
Just tired.
“You were going to say something earlier,” he added.
I frowned.
“When?”
“Before the interruption.”
Oh.
That.
I looked away.
“Maybe it wasn’t important.”
“It was.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.”
I sighed.
“You make it hard to hide.”
“That is not accidental.”
I met his gaze again.
“Stay tonight,” I repeated softly.
This time without interruption.
He didn’t answer immediately.
Just looked at me like he was measuring something deeper than the question.
“Are you asking for comfort or proximity?” he asked.
“Is there a difference?”
“Yes.”
I thought about it.
“Both.”
His jaw shifted slightly.
Then:
“Yes.”
One word.
But it landed like a decision.
---
We didn’t go to my room.
Or his.
We stayed in the living room.
Lights low.
City glowing beyond the glass.
He sat on one end of the sofa.
I sat on the other.
Distance that meant something.
We talked.
Not about the scandal.
Not about Seth or Amelia.
About small things.
Unexpected things.
“What did you want to be when you were younger?” I asked.
He leaned back.
“Not this.”
“That’s vague.”
“I wanted control over outcomes.”
“That sounds exactly like this.”
“It’s different when you don’t yet understand cost.”
I studied him.
“What did it cost you?”
A pause.
“Time.”
“With people?”
“Yes.”
I nodded slowly.
“That explains a lot.”
“You?”
I smiled faintly.
“I wanted a normal life.”
“And now?”
I gestured around us.
“Define normal.”
“Unclear.”
We both laughed quietly.
It felt… easy.
New territory.
Dangerous territory.
---
At some point, I curled my legs beneath me.
At some point, he moved closer.
At some point, my head ended up resting against his shoulder.
I didn’t remember deciding.
He didn’t comment.
Just adjusted slightly to make it more comfortable.
His hand rested lightly against my arm.
Not possessive.
Just present.
“You’re different like this,” I murmured.
“How?”
“Quieter.”
“I am quiet.”
“No. You’re controlled. This is… softer.”
He didn’t respond immediately.
Then:
“This is limited access.”
I smiled against his shoulder.
“Exclusive feature?”
“Yes.”
“High subscription cost?”
“Significant.”
I laughed softly.
Then yawned.
Unattractive timing.
“Sleep,” he said.
“I should check on Kristy.”
“Mara is monitoring.”
“You trust her?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Another yawn.
I shifted slightly closer.
He didn’t move away.
That mattered more than I expected.
---
Morning came too quickly.
Sunlight through glass.
Coffee already made.
Vanessa already in the living room.
Of course she was.
She looked between us—me curled against Adrian, blanket half-fallen, his arm still around me—and sighed.
“I see we’ve escalated.”
I jerked upright.
Adrian did not.
He simply opened his eyes.
“Report.”
Vanessa handed him a tablet.
“Media pressure increasing. Gala is now critical.”
I rubbed my face.
“Good morning to you too.”
She gave me a sympathetic look.
“Also, Amelia has retained legal counsel.”
Of course she had.
“And?” Adrian asked.
“They’re pushing the narrative that Bonny manipulated both men.”
I laughed dryly.
“Ambitious.”
Vanessa nodded.
“Dangerous.”
I stood.
“Fine. Then we go to your gala.”
Adrian looked at me.
“Confident shift.”
“I’m tired of being quiet while other people write my story.”
Something in his expression sharpened.
Approval.
Respect.
Maybe pride.
Vanessa smiled faintly.
“Good. We’ll weaponize that.”
I pointed at her.
“I don’t like your phrasing.”
“You don’t need to.”
---
Later, as I stood in front of the mirror again, dressed in the blue gown, everything felt sharper.
More real.
More exposed.
More decided.
Adrian entered behind me.
Suit perfect.
Presence steady.
Dangerously composed.
“You’re ready,” he said.
“I’m terrified.”
“Expected.”
I turned.
“What if I say the wrong thing?”
“Then we correct it.”
“What if they believe the lies?”
“They will.”
That hit.
“But they will also see you,” he added.
“And that matters more.”
I searched his face.
“Why?”
His answer was quiet.
“Because I do.”
My breath caught.
He offered his hand.
Not commanding.
Not assuming.
Just there.
Choice.
I took it.
As we walked toward the elevator, my heart pounded harder with every step.
“Adrian?”
“Yes?”
“If I panic—”
“You won’t be alone.”
The doors opened.
Cameras waited.
And for the first time—
I walked toward them instead of away.
- Writer
