Chapter Twenty-Eight: Sweet Delays
The silence after the door clicked shut was a physical thing. It pressed in on me, hollow and sudden. The room, so full of his presence just moments ago—the scent of his cologne, the heat of his gaze, the low vibration of his voice—felt like a shell.
The smugness, the playful power I'd felt, evaporated. A sharp, inexplicable ache bloomed in my chest, right beneath the soft cashmere. It wasn't rational. He'd be back. It was just a day. But the feeling was a tidal wave, swamping all my cultured reasoning and dignified posturing.
I'm feeling mood swings again… stupid feelings…
Before I could think, my body moved. The flowing gown whispered around my ankles as I darted across the bedroom, my bare feet slapping softly on the marble floor of the hallway. I didn't call out. I just ran.
He was at the end of the grand hallway, one hand on the massive front door's handle, about to push it open into the world of ministries and legacies.
"Adrian!"
He froze, turning. His eyes widened, taking in my flushed face, my heaving chest, my bare feet on the cold floor. "Arisha? What's wrong?" Instantly, he was striding back toward me, concern erasing his earlier frustrated restraint.
I met him halfway, crashing into him before he could fully stop. My arms wrapped around his waist, my face pressing into the crisp, cool wool of his suit jacket. "You left," I mumbled, the words muffled against his chest.
His arms came around me, strong and sure. "I… yes. I have to." His voice was confused, tender. "What is this, my heart?"
I tilted my head back, looking up at him. My eyes felt suspiciously wet. "You didn't kiss me goodbye properly. You just… looked at me and walked away." A pout, genuine this time, formed on my lips. "It was a very rude goodbye for a husband."
Understanding dawned, followed by a slow, devastating smile that made my knees actually weaken. "Oh, I see. The lord was remiss in his duties." He leaned down, his breath fanning my face. "And what does my lady require for a proper send-off?"
"A kiss," I whispered, my earlier bravado gone, replaced by a needy, honest ache. "A good one. I'm going to miss you. And I love you. Even when you're an old, shouty man."
His chuckle was a warm rumble against me. "Even then?"
"Especially then."
He didn't need more encouragement. His mouth found mine, and this was the kiss that had been missing. Not the frantic reclamation of the night before, not the searing brand of minutes ago. This was slow, deep, and infinitely sweet. A proper goodbye. A promise of return. His lips moved over mine with a tenderness that made my toes curl against the cold floor. One hand cradled the back of my head, his fingers tangling in my hair, while the other arm held me tightly against him.
When he finally pulled away, we were both breathless. He rested his forehead against mine. "Better?"
"A little," I breathed, not letting go. "I might need another. For the road."
He obliged, this one shorter but no less potent, a soft brush of lips that held the warmth of the first. "I have to go, angel. My father's car is waiting."
"I know." I sighed dramatically, finally loosening my hold. I slipped my hand into his. "I'll walk you to the door. Like a good, devoted, shameless wife."
He laughed, lacing his fingers through mine. We walked slowly down the hall, our steps in sync. "So, the plan is to emotionally devastate your mother with your filial piety, and then financially devastate me with Lucia's help?"
"That's the plan," I confirmed, swinging our joined hands slightly. "And I'll be home early. Maybe even by four."
He raised an eyebrow. "Is that so? What's the catch?"
"No catch. I'll just miss my old, grumpy husband too much to stay out late." I batted my eyelashes up at him. "Is that a crime?"
He stopped at the door, turning to face me fully. He traced my jawline with his free hand. "It's a diabolical strategy. You know I'm powerless against it." His gaze softened. "Be safe. Call me. And if you feel even a hint of dizziness, you sit down immediately and call Marcus. Understood?"
"Understood, Lord Madden," I teased, giving a little curtsey.
He growled, pulling me in for one last, quick, hard kiss. "Tease me all you want. We'll settle the score tonight."
He opened the door. The grey morning light and the faint sound of the city spilled in. He gave my hand a final squeeze, his eyes holding mine for one more heartbeat—full of love, worry, and a fierce, sparkling promise.
Then he was gone, the door closing softly behind him.
I stood there for a moment, my fingertips touching my smiling lips. The hollow ache was gone, filled to the brim with the sweetness of our stolen minutes, the lingering taste of him, and the thrilling promise in his parting words.
The day stretched before me, but my heart was already counting down the hours until five o'clock. Until I could come home and prove to my lord and master exactly who held the real power in this delicious, dizzying game of ours.
♡: Parting Hugs
The lingering sweetness of Adrian's goodbye kiss was a warm secret on my lips as I padded back to our room. But the quiet felt different now—not hollow, but anticipatory. I had a mission: daughterly duty, sisterly bonding, and, if I was honest, a little retail therapy to soothe the strange, emotional tides still swirling within me.
I found Lucia in the sun-drenched morning room, her energy already buzzing. She was draped over an armchair, scrolling through her phone, a pair of oversized sunglasses perched on her head. "Finally!" she exclaimed, leaping up. "I thought His Grumpiness had locked you in a tower. Ready to conquer the city?"
"Almost," I smiled. "Just let me grab my bag."
As I turned to leave, I saw Maria moving gracefully through the adjoining conservatory, tending to her orchids with a delicate spray bottle. The sight of her—calm, elegant, a pillar of this complex household—pulled at something in my chest. It was a different ache than the one I'd felt for Adrian. Softer, but just as deep.
Without overthinking, I changed course and walked into the conservatory. The air was humid and green, smelling of damp earth and blooming flowers.
"Maria?" I said softly.
She turned, a gentle smile already on her face. "All set for your adventure, my dear?"
I didn't answer with words. Instead, I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around her. She stiffened for only a fraction of a second—the Maddens were not a demonstratively huggy family—then melted into the embrace, one hand coming up to pat my back lightly.
"I'll miss you," I murmured into the soft silk of her blouse, my voice thick with a sudden, surprising rush of emotion. The mood swings were no joke. "I will be back soon. Stay safe."
It was a child's plea, simple and earnest. Stay safe. In this house of calculated risks and political storms, it felt like the most important thing to say.
Maria pulled back slightly, holding me at arm's length. Her sharp, intelligent eyes scanned my face, seeing the genuine feeling there. Her own expression softened, the polished hostess vanishing to reveal the mother beneath. She cupped my cheek, her thumb stroking gently.
"Oh, my sweet girl," she said, her voice warm as honey. "What is this? I am just going to be here, talking to my flowers and fending off your father-in-law's grumbles about the lunch menu." Her eyes twinkled. "It is you who must stay safe. Out there in the wilds of the boutique district with my whirlwind daughter." She leaned in and pressed a light, fragrant kiss to my forehead. "Go. Have fun. And come home to us."
The kiss, the words—come home to us—settled the last of my nervous flutterings. I wasn't just a visitor or a temporary complication. I was part of the us. I hugged her once more, tightly, drawing strength from her quiet grace.
"Okay," I whispered, pulling away with a wobbly smile.
When I rejoined Lucia, my bag in hand, she was watching me with a knowing, softer look. "You hugged Mom," she stated, a smile playing on her lips.
"Was that okay?"
"It was perfect," Lucia said, linking her arm through mine. "She needs it more than she lets on. We all do." She gave my arm a squeeze. "Now, let's go. We have important work to do. The world needs to see the new Mrs. Madden, and she needs a pair of shoes that says 'I'm blissfully married, not tragically subdued.'"
Laughing, the last of the morning's emotional weight lifted, I let her lead me out. As we walked through the grand foyer towards the waiting cars, I glanced back. Maria stood in the doorway of the conservatory, a slight, serene figure amidst the greenery, watching us go. She lifted her hand in a small wave.
I waved back, my heart full. I was leaving, but I wasn't leaving anything behind. I was carrying it all with me—Adrian' searing promise, Maria's gentle blessing, and the newfound certainty of my place. The estate wasn't just a backdrop anymore; it was becoming a home. And I couldn't wait to return to it.