Chapter 2 - The Fitting Room AmbushBy noon, the penthouse had transformed into a whirlwind of tulle, lace, and emotional terrorism.
Claire had invited three of her bridesmaids over for an emergency dress fitting, turning the expansive living room into a battlefield of pins, champagne flutes, and passive-aggressive commentary. Nora, acting as the unofficial maid of honor and lead coordinator, was currently kneeling on the rug, frantically pinning the hem of a heavily beaded gown on a bridesmaid named Chloe, when the front door unlocked.
Heavy footsteps echoed across the entryway.
“Claire, where did you put the architectural schematics for the reception layout—?”
Adrian stopped dead in his tracks.
He had clearly just come from a business meeting. He wore a sharp charcoal tailored suit, the jacket unbuttoned, his white dress shirt open at the collar with his tie loosened around his neck. He looked like an advertisement for high-stakes corporate espionage—impeccable, commanding, and completely out of place in a room filled with weeping tulle and gossiping women.
All three bridesmaids stopped talking instantly.
Chloe gasped, staring down at Adrian with wide, starry-eyed appreciation. “Oh. My. God. Claire, who is that?”
“That,” Claire said, taking a slow sip of champagne with a beatific smile, “is my older brother, Adrian. Adrian, darling, come in! You remember Nora, of course. She’s right down there at your feet.”
Adrian’s gaze dropped slowly from the ceiling, landing on Nora, who was currently pinned to the floor on her knees, a mouthful of straight pins clenched between her teeth.
She offered him a murderous glare over the top of the emerald-cut diamond ring she was using to hold a pleat in place.
“Adrian,” Claire continued, gesturing vaguely with her glass. “Nora’s been doing such an incredible job keeping this whole operation afloat. Why don’t you take her out to dinner tonight? As a thank-you from the family.”
Nora choked. She spat the pins out into her palm, scrambling to her feet with flushed cheeks.
“That won’t be necessary, Claire. Adrian is a busy man, and I have fifty seating arrangements to cross-reference with the caterer.”
“I’m actually quite free tonight,” Adrian cut in smoothly, his green eyes locking onto hers with a challenge she couldn't ignore. He stepped further into the room, tossing a set of leather-bound blueprints onto the coffee table. “And I think a dinner sounds like an excellent way to catch up. Unless, of course, you’re too busy, Nora?”
The bridesmaids were watching them like tennis spectators at Wimbledon, shifting their eyes back and forth with undisguised delight.
Nora felt the walls closing in. If she backed down, she’d look cowardly. If she went, she’d be willingly locking herself in a confined space with the only man alive who knew how to crack her defenses open.
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“Fine,” Nora said tightly, forcing a brittle smile. “Eight o’clock. But we’re eating somewhere loud, public, and strictly platonic.”
“Whatever you say, Nora,” Adrian replied, his voice dropping an octave as he walked past her toward the hallway. He paused right beside her ear, his breath warm against her skin. “Though we both know platonic went out the window ten years ago.”
