Page 17 of Wrong Pawn. Right Capo.

I freeze.

Camila’s gaze flicks past me, irritation flashing when she registers him properly. He’s beside me now, towering above both of us.

“And you are?” She fakes a smile.

“Someone who knows defamation when he hears it,” Adrian says flatly. His hands are in his pockets, but from the bulge, I can tell he’s clenching them. “And the man whose bad side you don’t want to test tonight.”

She blanches. Then her smile twitches as she briefly turns her gaze to me. “I see, you got yourself a… hot minion?” Then back to Adrian. “Relax, hottie, we were just talking.”

Adrian steps half a foot closer to me, not touching, but shielding like he’s claiming me.

“Leave,” he warns, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Or I’ll make sure this entire room remembers you for the wrong reasons.”

Camila’s jaw tightens as her eyes flash. People nearby pretend very hard not to listen, but I can see Maxine and Selene, the infamous twin owners of a gossip blog, inching closer and closer toward us.

She turns around, storming off, her heels clicking furiously against the marble.

Unable to steady my legs, I stare at the spot she occupied, pulse racing, throat tight.

Adrian turns to me. “You’re as white as death.”

I can’t even be pissed at his remark.

“Thank you,” I mutter, sniffing back the tears threatening to well up in my eyes.

His face is blank as he steps back. “Doing my job.”

I don’t know what I expected him to say, but for some reason, that stings even more than Camila’s words. I gather the train of my dress and stomp away from him.

***

The ride home is quiet.

City lights blur past the window as Adrian maneuvers through the quiet streets. I sit rigidly, my hands folded in my lap, replaying Camila’s voice over and over and then Adrian’s voice afterwards.

I steal a glance at him sideways. His jaw is tight, eyes focused blankly on the road. He looks unbothered for someone who just snapped at another woman in public.

“I appreciate what you did back there,” I say softly. “You didn’t have to.”

He doesn’t speak, and I find myself sinking deeper into the backseat, my mind drifting through several memories.

“I mean, I love being this successful, independent woman who has her shit together. But there’s… there’s a side to success that people rarely speak about.” I can’t help the vulnerability that slips in.

“…Sometimes it feels like being famous just makes you a slave to the public.”

I remember reaching out to Bella one time when it became too much. She gave a few words of encouragement, and one thing stuck. There’s a price to pay to achieve any precious thing in life, whether good or bad.

“Camila…the bitch you saved me from…” I scoff bitterly, “…was in the industry years before me. And I think she’s just jealous that my brand can stand shoulder to shoulder with hers now. I’m trying to change the narrative that a girl can be at the top of her game without doing dirty, compromising things. Without help or privileges or someone’s money or…”

I sigh, trailing off.

“…But the truth is, it’s hard. People just think I’m all beauty and tend to overlook my brains.”

It’s only when I finish that I realize I’ve just been rambling—pouring my heart out. And I don’t know what I expected, but it’s not the humiliating silence that settles between us.

Equal parts irritation and embarrassment strain my chest. I’m about to ask if he thinks being mute makes him look cool when he turns, looks me dead in the eyes with a certain conviction, and says, “What brains?”

The words land like a slap to my face. This bastard. He did not just—