I go around the sofa, speeding to the closet, his eyes still following me. Did I miss this yesterday? There’s a walk-in closet filled with beautiful clothes, shoes and some accessories.
What the hell is this? I quickly scan the clothes hanging on the racks. It all seems like exactly my style, but I could never afford these brands. I quickly check one random shoe.
My size, of course, but Louboutins? Jesus.
I step out of the closet and look at Adrien. He looks so interested in every move I make, a little smile is still tugging in the corner of his mouth.
He’s enjoying this too much.
It’s making me fucking nervous.
I sip the coffee in my hand, still frowning at him, when something about the taste catches me off guard. Oat milk. And my favorite signature taste. My grip tightens around the cup as I slowly turn it in my hand, my pulse already spiking, my eyes locking onto the logo.
Joey’s coffee corner.
I march to Adrien with enough fury to start a tornado.
“What is this?” I spit out angrily and put the coffee cup in front of Adrien’s face, but he doesn’t seem bothered.
“That’s coffee, Troubles. I thought journalists were supposed to be bright,” he says, amusement written all over his face.
Can this guy get any more annoying?
“That’s fromJoey’s coffee corner!” I yell and he finally freezes a little bit, realization hitting him.
“Why is there my usual order from my favorite coffee shop, Adrien?” I ask him with my teeth gritting against each other from all the irritation settling in my gut.
“C’mon, the whole city lovesJoey’s coffee corner.” He says it so innocently that I almost believe his bullshit.
I let out a short, humorless breath.
“Oh yeah? You mean that six million people from the city love the smallest coffee shop on the edge of the city right under my apartment?” I snap at him, my jaw tightening.
He stays silent, his smile gone.
“How did you know?” I ask him.
I already know the answer, but I need someone to finally tell me what is happening here or I’m going to go mental.
He takes a big breath and finally admits, “He might’ve seen you ordering there once or… twice.” He waves his hand like it doesn’t mean anything.
“Once or twice?” I raise my voice. “And who’s this mysterioushewe keep tiptoeing around?”
Just fucking say it.
“You know exactly who we’re talking about.” His smile is back.
Of course it was him. Of course he’s alive.
“He’s been following me, right?” I snap, nerves boiling under my skin.
Adrien starts rubbing his curly hair and takes another cigarette, lighting it as if he needs it for this conversation.
“I wouldn’t say following,” he mumbles with the cigarette between his lips and shrugs.
Someone needs to talk to me. This devious bastard is driving me crazy with his half-answers and smirks. I need to speak to an actual person. I need to know what is happening here and why the hell is this suite filled with stuff I like.
“Is the psychopath gonna visit me too or is he always sending insufferable messengers?” I snap.
