Chapter 7 - The Uninvited GuestThe morning after the storm was crisp, clear, and dripping with golden autumn sunlight.
Nora woke up tangled in the sheets of the master suite—Adrian’s suite—with his arm draped heavily over her waist, holding her securely against his chest. The memory of the night before sent a warm, tingling wave through her veins. For the first time in a decade, the knot of resentment and regret in her chest was completely gone.
She smiled against his shoulder, gently slipping out of his grip to make her way back to her own room before the household started stirring.
She had just finished showering and was toweling her hair dry when the front door security chime echoed through the penthouse.
Nora froze, clutching her bathrobe tightly around herself.
It was too early for the caterers. Too early for the bridesmaids.
Then she heard a familiar, aristocratic voice booming from the private elevator foyer.
“Oh, darling! I brought croissants from the bakery on Madison, and we simply must review the seating chart changes before noon!”
Helena Bennett. Nora’s mother.
And, standing right behind her, carrying two garment bags and a look of supreme maternal satisfaction—Claire Whitmore.
Nora’s blood ran cold. If her mother walked into the guest wing and found Nora coming out of Adrian’s room—or worse, found Adrian in the penthouse without a shirt—the resulting explosion would rival an atomic bomb.
Before Nora could bolt toward the hallway, her bedroom door pushed open.
Adrian stepped inside, fully dressed in a crisp black button-down shirt and slacks, looking entirely too calm for a man about to face a hostile ambush.
“Your mother is in the foyer,” Adrian said, raising an eyebrow. “And she brought reinforcements.”
“This is a nightmare,” Nora hissed, grabbing her phone and pacing the room. “If my mother sees you here, living with me, she will lose her mind. She still thinks you’re the corporate predator who tried to steal her nineteen-year-old daughter away from architecture school!”
“Let her think what she wants,” Adrian said, walking over and taking her hands to stop her pacing. His thumb brushed soothingly over her knuckles. “We’re adults, Nora. We aren't teenagers sneaking around anymore.”
“You don't know my mother when she gets protective!”
Before Adrian could reply, the bedroom door swung open wider, and Helena Bennett stepped across the threshold, followed closely by a grinning Claire.
“Nora, darling, I brought—oh.”
May you like
Helena stopped dead in her tracks. Her eyes darted from Nora’s flushed face and damp hair to Adrian standing right beside her, holding her hands.
The silence in the room became absolute.
