Chapter Thirteen
994 Words
The studio was smaller than I expected.
All those late-night shows, all those news programs—I thought there'd be cameras everywhere, lights blinding, a crowd of people shouting directions. But it was just a desk, two chairs, and a woman with perfect hair named Celeste who kept saying "relax" like that was something I knew how to do.
"You're shaking," Adrian murmured beside me.
"I'm not shaking. I'm vibrating with confidence."
"That's shaking."
"Let me have this."
His hand found mine under the desk. Squeezed once. Didn't let go.
Celeste was adjusting her microphone, scrolling through notes, whispering to a producer. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but I could feel it—the weight of what we were about to do.
No contract. No lawyers. No carefully worded statements.
Just us. Live. Telling the truth.
Or at least, a version of it.
---
"And we're live in three... two..."
Celeste smiled. The red light on the camera glowed.
"Good evening, I'm Celeste Monroe, and tonight we have a exclusive interview with billionaire Adrian Wolfe and his fiancée, Ivy Cole. Thank you both for being here."
Adrian nodded. I tried to smile. It felt like a grimace.
"Let's start with the elephant in the room," Celeste said. "There have been allegations that your engagement is... transactional. That Ms. Cole was hired to play a role. Can you address that?"
Adrian didn't look at me. He looked straight into the camera.
"The allegations are false."
"Completely false?"
"The engagement is real. My feelings for Ivy are real. Everything else is noise."
Celeste tilted her head. She was good at this—looking skeptical without looking mean. "But there is a contract. We've seen documents."
My heart stopped.
Adrian's hand tightened on mine.
"There's a prenuptial agreement," he said calmly. "Standard for someone in my position. It's been misrepresented by people who want to hurt us."
"People like your cousin, Liam Wolfe?"
Adrian's jaw tightened. "I don't want to discuss family drama on television."
"But you're here. On television. Discussing it."
Celeste smiled. Adrian didn't.
And I realized—she wasn't on our side. She wasn't on Liam's side. She was on the side of ratings.
We were walking into a trap.
---
"I'd like to say something," I interrupted.
Celeste turned to me. Surprised. Adrian turned to me. Terrified.
"Ms. Cole?"
"My mother is sick." I swallowed. My voice was shaking, but I kept going. "She's been sick for years. Kidney disease. She almost died three times last year."
The camera zoomed in. I could feel it—the lens, the lights, the millions of people watching.
"I took a job as a courier because it paid cash and I could work around her appointments. I delivered a package to Adrian's office. The elevator broke. We got stuck. And he... saw me."
"Saw you?"
"Really saw me. Not the broke girl with the broken boots. The one underneath."
Celeste leaned forward. "And he offered you a deal."
"No." I shook my head. "He offered me hope. The money came later. The deal came later. But in that elevator, in the dark, he just... stayed."
The studio was quiet.
I could hear someone breathing—maybe me, maybe Adrian, maybe the cameraman.
"He stayed," I repeated. "No one ever stays."
---
Celeste asked more questions.
About the contract. About the ring. About Isabel.
Adrian answered them all. Calmly. Carefully. But something had shifted. He wasn't looking at the camera anymore. He was looking at me.
"I have one more question," Celeste said. "And I apologize in advance for how personal it is."
Adrian tensed. "Ask it."
"Ms. Cole, are you in love with Adrian Wolfe?"
The room held its breath.
I looked at him. Really looked. At the scar above his eyebrow from his father's ring. At the way his thumb was still tracing circles on my hand. At the fear in his eyes—not of the cameras, not of Liam, but of me. Of my answer.
"Yes," I said.
The word hung in the air.
"I didn't expect to be. I didn't want to be. But somewhere between the elevator and the pancakes and the way he looks at me when he thinks I'm not watching..." I shrugged. "Yes. I love him."
Celeste turned to Adrian. "And you, Mr. Wolfe?"
He didn't answer right away.
Instead, he turned to me. Lifted my hand to his lips. Kissed my knuckles—soft, slow, deliberate.
Then he looked at the camera.
"I've spent my whole life being afraid of this," he said. "Of needing someone. Of being seen. Of being... vulnerable." His voice cracked. Just a little. "But Ivy makes it easy. She makes everything easy. And I will spend the rest of my life proving that to her."
He turned back to me.
"I love you, Ivy Cole."
The red light on the camera blinked off.
Celeste was saying something—a closing statement, a thank you, words I didn't hear. The producer was gesturing. The crew was moving.
But I wasn't watching any of it.
I was kissing Adrian Wolfe on live television.
---
The car ride home was silent.
Not the bad silence. The full one. The kind where everything that needed to be said had already been said, and now there was nothing left but to feel it.
"You meant it," Adrian said.
"I meant it."
"On television. In front of millions of people."
"I didn't plan it."
"I know."
He pulled me closer. My head rested on his shoulder. The city slid past the windows—blurry and bright and full of strangers who'd just watched me fall in love.
"Liam is going to be furious," I said.
"Liam can go to hell."
"Isabel too."
"Isabel who?"
I laughed. It felt good. Real.
"What happens now?" I asked.
Adrian pressed a kiss to my hair.
"Now, we go home. We feed your cat. And we figure it out. Together."
- Writer
