A flash of guilt slashes through me at the thought that a moment ago I asked Radu to invade his privacy.
His gaze finds me before I even step inside. Like some invisible string yanks taut between us. And while I couldn’t see it before, I know he always read me in ways no one else could. The real me. Not Carter’s sister, not the family princess.
Joseph is deep in their conversation, not scowling at him like he usually does. When he finally sees me, his tanned skin creases at his temples.
“The move on Sander played out spectacularly.” He claps once, standing to hug me, draping his arm around my shoulders like a proud uncle. “You remind me of the raiders in the 80s. Cutthroat.” He grins around his unlit cigar.
With a sideways glance, I catch Adam watching me with an indecipherable expression.
Joseph’s secretary pops her head inside the door frame. “Mr. Robertson, Eugene needs a word in the media room.”
“Be right back, kids.” He ambles out, in a great mood, shoving the cigar into his breast pocket.
“You haven’t changed,” Adam says as soon as the door clicks shut. He leans back in the armchair, ankle resting casually over his knee. The posture is unfairly attractive. “It’s always thenuclear option with you. No warning. You don’t let anything slide.”
“Should I roll over? Let people think I’m a pushover? Would that soothe your male ego?” My tone hardens. “People need to learn I’m not some bimbo playing dress-up.”
His voice drops low, temper rising. “Yeah, well… I didn’t need that lesson. I knew exactly who you were and I worshiped the ground you walked on.” He pauses, his gaze dragging up my legs, slowly, until our eyes meet. “But I was your dirty little secret, wasn’t I? Ashamed to tell your parents about me?”
His words land hard and sharp, like a slap.
“What? Never!” I gasp. “But Dad was…you know. He saw alliances everywhere.” He would have ruined everything. He was already planning to marry me to some mogul’s son.
“Yes. I remember,” Adam mutters, bitterness edging every syllable.
“Look.” That doubt haunting me swells, pulling me back from an argument. “It’s been years. I don’t want to fight anymore.”
“That’s hard to believe,” he says dryly.
He has to know it wasn’t easy for me either. The silence also took a toll on me.
“I wanted to call you one night. To talk.” I swallow the lump of unease choking me. “But some girl tagged you in a picture. You seemed happy. Unbothered.” It nailed the idea that I really didn’t mean much to him.
His face remains impassive. “So you wanted me to be miserable to show you I cared?” A dark chuckle, low enough to raise the hairs on my neck, rumbles in his chest. “Joke’s on you. I was fucking desperate.”
The air in the room thins, his confession hanging heavy. Adam clamps his mouth, jaw flexing, hands gripping thearmrests. He looks away, out the large windows, like he regrets letting that slip.
Heat licks my cheeks. Facing the aftermath of my actions is uncomfortable and has my stomach in knots. More so as the truth is carving its way out; I can feel it in my bones.
Who can blame him for having his walls up? But what I do know is that ourtrucewas the happiest time for me in a long time. Selfish as it might be, I want more time with him. For all the years apart, this,us, still hums beneath the surface, waiting to ignite.
“Would you come with us?” The words slip out before I can second-guess them. “Please.”
Adam raises a brow, fixing me with a hard stare.
“To Venice,” I clarify quickly. “I know it’s short notice. And you’re probably busy.” I babble nervously and don’t seem to know how to stop. “You don’t have to—”
“Already told Carter I’d go.” Adam tilts his head and casually rests his arm on the back of the armchair, jacket parting enough to reveal the crisp white shirt stretched across his chest. The way it dips into the waistband of his slacks makes my fingertips tingle. To touch. To rip open and explore.
A strangledOhis the single coherent sound that escapes me.
“Couldn’t pass up a free trip to Italy,” he says with the barest hint of humor in his voice, as his other hand drops onto his strong thigh.
I laugh awkwardly. “I thought you wanted to keep me company.”
What’s wrong with me?
Adam’s lips curve, but the muscle in his jaw ticks. “Not everything is about you, princess.”
