Chapter 211
Isabella’s doubt lingered, a knot in her stomach, even as Adrian’s assurances poured forth. She clamped down on Damian’s hand, her silence a simmering volcano. Adrian, glancing nervously in the rearview mirror, got a sharp, “Just focus on driving!” The icy tone brooked no argument.
“Okay,” Adrian mumbled, his attention snapping back to the road. The usually short drive stretched into an agonizing forty minutes. Damian scrambled out as soon as they pulled up, Isabella already unbuckling herself. Her face was tight with tension.
“Isabella, please believe me! If I’m seeing anyone else, may I suffer a miserable death!” Adrian pleaded, his sincerity raw.
“Then why the hesitation earlier?” she demanded, her glare sharp.
“I was remembering how stunning you looked the day we met,” Adrian said, his voice desperate. “No one else, I swear.”
Isabella stared, then turned and marched toward the stairs, Damian trailing behind. Adrian followed, a whirlwind of confusion churning inside him. As they reached the door, Isabella spun, slamming it shut with a resounding bang that almost knocked Adrian off his feet. He hesitated, hand raised to knock, then lowered it. He couldn’t tell her. Not yet. The wealthy elite – Carly and Isabella’s disdain for them – loomed large. The thought of revealing his background filled him with dread. “No,” he thought, shaking his head. “Not yet.”
He finally pulled out his phone. “What to do when you’ve upset your wife?” he typed into the search bar. He opted for a low-key approach. A bouquet. He ordered it online and settled in to wait, hoping the gesture would mend the breach.
Time crawled. Finally, the flowers arrived. Adrian signed, gave the deliveryman a five-star rating, and sank to the doorstep, clutching the bouquet, forcing a look of remorse onto his face.
Inside, Isabella steered Damian deeper into the house. He kept glancing back at the door, his brow furrowed. Despite occasionally overlooking Adrian, Damian had grown fond of him over the past six months. “Daddy didn’t come inside,” Damian whispered.
Isabella’s anger flared. She strained to hear anything beyond the silence. She half-expected a knock, some attempt at explanation. Nothing.
Has he left? Disappointment washed over her. She’d been growing to depend on him. Men, she thought ruefully, I can only depend on myself. She turned to Damian. “Ignore him.”
Damian lingered on the door a moment longer before obeying. “Have you eaten?” Isabella asked, changing the subject.
Damian shook his head. He'd already voiced his displeasure at Adrian’s lunch. Isabella headed to the kitchen.
The evening was a flurry of activity – dinner, cleaning toys, bath time, her own shower. Adrian was banished to the back of her mind.
The next morning, Isabella opened the door to find Adrian slumped against it, tumbling inward as she swung it open. She caught him instinctively. Adrian, groggy, sat up, then hastily presented her with the bouquet he’d held all night. Isabella stared. He was still in yesterday’s clothes, dark circles under his eyes, hair tousled from sleeping on the doorstep.
“You… slept outside all night?”
“Isabella, I’m not lying. I don’t have another woman. I swear, it’s only you,” he said, desperate. “And I promise, after we get married, I’ll be faithful. Always.”
Isabella’s expression remained stern, but she didn’t push him away. She turned towards the kitchen.
Adrian’s spirits lifted at the slight softening in her demeanor. “I’ll make breakfast. Go back to sleep. I’ll wake you,” he offered. She ignored him, reaching for pasta. Adrian washed the dishes, then checked the time. “I’ll wake Damian,” he announced.
Isabella watched him go, suspicion still clinging to her. He was hiding something, she was sure. His guilt from the previous day proved it. But not another woman. Something else. Debt? she wondered, watching the water boil. Is that why he’s so afraid of me discovering his past?