His Father's Bride

Adrian looked at the letter in his hands. He squeezed life off the edges, trying not to ruin the whole thing. “No, Dad, I can never agree with this!” Mr. Edward, who was excited about the letter he handed to Adrian, looked disappointed by his response. “Son, it is not your choice to make,” he paused, taking a step closer to Adrian. “Look, I know you might find it tough at first, but trust me, it won’t be a big deal”. Adrian clenched his fist tightly. His face was colored with anger. His veins clearly popped out of his temples. If anger could kill him, his dad would have been dead by now because of the words he put out. Edward walked towards him and placed his right arm around his shoulders. “Don’t mess this up for me, Adrian,” he warned. With a soft smile, he released Adrian’s shoulders and walked towards the door, and then he paused, still looking straight. “I will let you think about it, but it changes nothing”. Adrian felt like killing him, pulling out a gun to Edward’s forehead or strangling his neck till he eventually passed out. But all he could do was watch, helpless, as his father slowly walked out of the room. The chair rocked gently as Adrian sat still, consumed by the anger burning in his chest. He clenched his fist as his thoughts kept going back to one question, “But why can’t I make my own choice?” Just then, the door squeaked open, a high-pitched, sharp sound and a voice spoke before Adrian could look up. “Sir, Mr. Edward ordered that you get dressed. Our guest will be arriving soon.” The voice sounded like Donald, Mr. Edward personal assistant. “Argggggh!!” he screamed, throwing the already crumpled paper into the trash bin, three inches away from him. Then he left the room. _____ The elevator door slid open, revealing Clara in a crimson dress that demanded attention. She walked in like the entire city belonged to her until a hard shoulder bumped into her. “Watch it,” a deep voice snapped. She looked up and saw him. Tall, sharp-jawed, in a perfectly tailored suit, with a look of irritation barely masked in his eyes. “You walked into me,” she said flatly. “Hard not to when someone’s standing in the middle of the hallway like it’s a sidewalk.” He shot back. He sighted the invitation in her hand. “You must be the latest gold digger my father dragged in.” She scoffed as her eyes narrowed. “And you must be the arrogant heir with the emotional range of a teaspoon.” He blinked. “Excuse me?” “No, thanks,” she said with a smile. “I prefer my men with souls.” A beat of silence. Then his expression shifted into something darker, cooler. “Prefect.” He stepped back with a bitter laugh. “This dinner just got a lot more interesting.” “For me, it doesn’t,” she said. “Trust me, if I knew I’d be dining with an entitled jerk in a suit, I would’ve stayed home.” “No one is stopping you from leaving,” he said as he left the hallway with a dismissive chuckle, and she knew immediately that she wasn’t welcomed. The dining room was meant for a spectacle. The high ceiling held a crystal chandelier that cast soft golden light across a polished mahogany table long enough to host royalty. But tonight only four chairs were filled. Seated at the head was Mr. Edward, silver-haired, standing tall and proud. To his right, his wife, Eleanor, her posture crisp and eyes observant. On Mr. Edward left, his son, Adrian, silent and unreadable. And across him sat Clara. The tension from the hallway earlier still clung to her skin. Adrian had hardly given her a look since she had taken her seat, not even after almost knocking her over with his broad shoulders in the hallway. Cold, Unbothered. Like she was an obligation, not a woman he’d soon be marrying. Now seated across from him, with the scent of fine wine and lamb stew floating in the air, she was even more certain that this wasn’t about getting to know each other, as she was told. It was a power game. Mr. Edward raised his glass, “Clara, my dear, your father was one of my oldest and most trusted friends. This…. Arrangement,” he smiled as if the word was a compliment, “is our way of honoring that bond.” Mr. Edward nodded with a softer, “You’re practically family already.” Clara forced a smile back. Her hands stood folded in her lap. Her stomach hadn’t settled since the first course. Still slightly tensed. Adrian hadn’t spoken a word since they sat down. Until now. “If this is about honoring old friendships,” he said flatly, lifting the bottle of wine, “I hope she knows she’s not the one being honored.” Clara stole a glance at him as her lips parted slightly. He didn’t even meet her gaze, he was reaching for the bottle of wine. He poured himself a glass, then slowly filled hers, sliding it over to her. “Relax,” he said coolly, swirling the wine in his glass. “It’s not like you need to impress me.” Clara blinked, her fingers tightening around her napkin. “I wasn’t trying to.” His eyes flicked at her at last. His eyes were cold. “Good. Then we understand each other.” “Adrian!!” Eleanor said sharply, her fork pausing midair. Mr. Edward gave a warning glance, but Adrian ignored both of them. Clara sat still for a second, then slowly reached for her phone. “I just remembered something urgent,” she said as she rose with practiced grace. “I need to make a quick call.” Adrian leaned back in his chair, watched her every movement. “Sure. Take your time. We’ll still be here …… discussing you further.” She nodded stiffly and walked down the grand hallway with dignity. She wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction of seeing her break. She didn’t make a call. She just stood there, the phone cold in her palm and her heart thudding against her ribs, still catching her breath. Then she heard his footsteps again, slow and measured. Adrian. She didn’t turn right away. She didn’t want to give him that satisfaction. “I didn’t take you for someone so delicate,” he said, coming to stand beside her but not too close. Just enough to make her skin buzz with awareness. “A little pressure, and you run.” She scoffed softly and met his gaze. “I’m not running. I just prefer conversation without hidden insults.” He leaned in slightly, his quiet voice burst against her ear. “You’re braver than I thought… walking into this house, sitting at that table, wearing that dress.” That caught her. She turned to face him. His eyes flicked down, not lasciviously, but like he was studying her. Her heart ticked faster, like her body hadn’t gotten the memo. Her brain was screaming, Don’t fall for this. He took a slow step forward, his eyes still on hers. “You look dangerously out of place. Like a storm pretending to be calm. Her lips parted, confused at the softness in his tone. Her pulse almost betrayed her. Then it happened. He smirked faintly, but his eyes remained unchanged. He pulled back just slightly and said, “But maybe that’s what my father likes. Dressing up a pawn to look like a queen.” The air left her lungs. And just like that, the moment shattered. Her cheeks flushed, not from embarrassment but from fury at herself for almost falling for it. For the flutter in her chest that came just before the dagger. He turned to walk away, but her voice stopped him. “You think you scare me, Adrian?” He paused, without looking back. “No,” he said flatly. “I think you haven’t realized what game you’ve been pulled into.” And then he was gone, leaving her alone in the hallway, her heart still racing for all the wrong reasons. Clara returned to the dining room, her heels clicking softly against the polished marble floor. Her face was composed, but her stomach twisted with unease. The low murmur of conversation paused as she stepped back into the glow of the chandelier. Eleanor looked up with a raised brow. Edward offered a calm, expectant smile. She slid gracefully into her chair, her lips pressed in a polite smile. “I apologize, I have to take my leave. "A call came through– work emergency,” she said softly, her voice calm but clipped. Mr. Edward furrowed his brow with loving concern. “Is everything all right?” “Yes, nothing serious. "Just business,” she smiled politely. Edward nodded, “I’ll have Collins take you home. He’ll ensure you get there safely.” “Thank you, Mr. Sterling. That's very kind.” As Clara stood, gathering at things with poised elegance, Adrian finally looked up just for a heartbeat. Their eyes met. Cool and unreadable. She offered him a small, unreadable smile before following Collins out of the room. As the grand door shot behind her, Mr. Edward turned to his son. “Try to be civil next time, Adrian.” Adrian poured himself another drink, the ice cracking under the pressure of the liquid. “She’s not my type.”