I always wondered how I’d react the day this might come to be. I was in my mid-thirties, not past the ability to have kids by any stretch, but an age at which fertility mortality became more real. In my twenties, I could have pushed Adrian away, if for no other reason than on idealistic and future-thinking grounds.
Now?
Did Ireallywant to insist on being a professional journalist at the expense of romance and maybe more?Bold to think Adrian would want children with you. Bold to think that it would go anywhere that far. He just wants to fuck you.
That was also an easy thought. I wasn’t sure it was right.
My head spun with these thoughts for the whole weekend, and by the time Sunday evening came, there was only one clear solution.
I needed a girl’s brunch.
Of course, because I waited until Sunday evening, “a girl’s brunch” quickly turned into “a girl’s dinner” on Monday night. That was always a bit more precarious for me than brunch, because life happened much faster on weekdays than weekends, even in Vegas. As much as I was debating the place of my professional and personal lives, I wasn’t going to quit my job cold turkey.
But fortunately, as Monday night came, and I walked into Naked City Pizza, one of my favorite pizza places in all of Vegas, I had little concern that any news of importance was going to break. All was quiet on the casino fronts—they usually were on Mondays—I hadn’t gotten any requests to do interviews, and I didn’t get any metaphorical tea leaves warning me of something critical about to happen.
Granted, it went without saying that I always had my ears perked up for something from Adrian. If he called, I had to pick up. I had to hear what he wanted to say. I’d have to control the conversation, to guide it in a manner that was suitable to my needs, but I still had to take it either way.
Immediately, I saw Bridget and Talia already seated. Sarah said she would come after she spent time with Cassius—an amusing fact that was not lost on me.
“Hello!” I said as I sat down.
“You’re awfully cheerful,” Bridget said with concern. “You texted us begging to meet, and now all sounds good? Is everything OK?”
“She’s just trying to be in a good mood, what’s wrong with that?” Talia said as I hugged them both.
“I’ve got a lot running through my head,” I said, “and I suppose it might be good to lay it out before Sarah arrives. What with her and Cassius.”
That drew raised eyebrows from both, and before I could think twice about how I wanted to present the information, I laid it all out. I explained all my encounters with Adrian and how conversing with him felt like friendly yet intense mental sparring, a game to see who could outwit the other. I went into the “diamond” metaphor and how it seemed to be an apt description for both my job and our dynamic.
And, most importantly and most honestly, I explained how I’d come inches—less than that, really—to kissing Adrian Vale.
“I think I can’t lie to myself anymore,” I said. “I’m immensely attracted to him, but I know going down this path would be stupid. So it’s not really about that. It’s more about trying to make sense of being professionally on point while being aware of how I feel about him.”
Except that’s not true and you know it.
“That doesn’t sound like you mean it,” Bridget said.
Damn. She was good. She was a therapist, after all. We had different roles, yet we had the same requirement of listening closely to people and asking the appropriate questions. She just did it on a much deeper and more personal level.
“What do you mean?”
“Do you really need us to explain how to be professional? We’re not journalists,” she said. “I think you’re attracted to him, and you want permission to go further.”
“I—”
“The therapist in me would listen and let you continue to talk, but the friend in me needs to say something first,” Bridget said. She barely drew a breath; this was obviously getting under her skin. “Cassius and Sarah, whatever. I’m not really convinced that’s good for Sarah, but they have history, they have talked it out, and she’s a grown woman who’s made a sober choice. So be it. You have no history with Adrian, right?”
I shook my head no. Not any more than the past couple of weeks.
“Adrian, the Vales, all these billionaires. They’re not that different from the bikers. They’re manipulators. They’re control freaks. They’ll present as being too cool for it or being above it, but actually, they get off on the dominance they have. The clamps they can put down on you. Adrian? He’s luring you into his game, and he’s winning.”
“I—”
“Of course you’ve gotten quotes out of him, Delilah. That’s the point. They give just enough to make you think it’s an even trade, when actually you are falling right into their hands. If they just took, well, you’d be their hostage or prisoner. Sort of like how Brianna was.”
Both Talia and I grimaced. If we thought Bridget was upset now, getting her to go off about Brianna marrying her biker man—Crush, a name Bridget refused to acknowledge—was a fast way to see a volcano erupt.
“You do what you need to do professionally,” Bridget continued. “But stay the fuck away from him otherwise. Only meet him in public places. And never go anywhere private with him, not even his office. Otherwise, you are his.”
