At this thought, Serena loosened her grip on the suitcase handle.
"It must be the hotel that assigned the wrong room."
Adrian handed her back the room card. "Are you nervous?"
"After all, I was the one who trespassed into your room." Serena's tone was mild, but her voice was laced with barely perceptible tension.
She pinched the edge of the card, intending to take it back, but the man didn't let go.
His strength followed the card, inch by inch, trailing into her fingertips, stirring up an electric tingling sensation.
Outside, the typhoon howled relentlessly. Rain shrouded the sky, and the entire city collapsed under the downpour.
Indoors, the two held opposite ends of the key card in a silent tug-of-war, voiceless confrontation, as if hidden currents coursed beneath the calm surface.
In that instant, Serena's eyelids fluttered with a jolt, and she couldn't help but sneak a few more glances at his face.
Dark hair, thick brows, eyes black as ink—under the crystal chandelier, his features appeared even colder and more distant.
The former recklessness was gone; his features were sharper, more rugged. Tall and imposing, the finely tailored black shirt and trousers draped over his toned body, exuding innate nobility and unruliness.
There was an air of poised steadiness, but also unmistakable desire and allure.
His aura always danced along the line between good and evil.
Adrian Shaw was born into a top-tier family, surrounded by power and prestige—a favored star within elite circles.
And yet, such a man had once kept a clandestine affair with her for two years.
Back then, she was an ordinary girl relying on scholarships, black-framed glasses, short shoulder-length hair, blending into the faceless masses.
She couldn't help but recall—when the two broke up, it hadn't ended well; in fact, it was incredibly awkward.
With Young Master Shaw's intolerance for even a grain of sand, he would never have let her off so easily.
Serena's nerves jumped to high alert, her heart skipped a beat. "Is there something wrong with the key card?"
"Why so nervous?" Adrian's expression was faint as he let go of the card. "I'm the one who entered the wrong room."
His tone was formal and noble, a lazy kind of baritone but with no trace of apology for the so-called intrusion.
Serena looked up, a flicker of confusion in her eyes.
Usually, it's the person who arrives later that enters the other's room by mistake. Since when does the first one to arrive end up being the intruder?
Their gazes met in the silence.
Adrian's face betrayed nothing, and he was the first to look away. "Make yourself comfortable."
With that, he turned and headed toward the door.
Serena stood frozen on the spot.
As he brushed past her left side, that enigmatic, aristocratic chill in his scent was like a tropical cyclone making landfall, aggressively invading her senses.
Just like the weather outside: damp, cold, seeping into her bones with a dull ache.
Serena clenched her key card and blurted unconsciously, "Adri—"
Adrian looked back, his deep eyes skimming across her face.
She abruptly remembered—they were now strangers, unfamiliar to the point of not recognizing each other face to face.
Serena's breath halted; her words switched nimbly, "…Thank you."
Praising her own quick wit, she added, "A room assignment error is the hotel's mistake. You can talk to the manager."
Adrian looked straight at her, as if contemplating her words. After a few seconds, he suddenly curved his lips. "You're right."
His expression remained as calm as a still pond. The fleeting trace of a smile in his eyes might have been nothing more than her imagination.
Serena didn't dwell on it; her long, dense lashes blinked softly, and she kept quiet.
Her clothes were damp and uncomfortable; she'd wait for him to leave before changing.
Unexpectedly, Adrian picked up his phone and made a call, his tone casual and unhurried.
"Come over."
Apparently, he had no intention of leaving.
Serena had no choice but to ask, "You're not leaving?"
"Since this is the hotel's mistake, they should give us an explanation." Adrian cast her a sidelong glance, his cool voice laced with a hint of indistinguishable amusement. "I'm particularly cautious about my reputation—can't afford to be labeled as someone who trespassed into a strange girl's room."
"…"
Perhaps her hearing was playing tricks on her, but she could swear he was emphasizing the word 'strange.'
Serena suddenly had a bad feeling.
Soon enough, a man's voice in Cantonese approached from the hallway. "The typhoon is fierce—flights may not land at Portryn for days. Even the people and cars on the street can barely hold out."
Serena turned, about to look in the direction of the voice—
—when, completely off guard, Adrian grabbed the thin blanket from the sofa and tossed it over her, covering her upper body completely.
Serena was bewildered and tried to pull it off. Looking down, she suddenly realized her clothes were now soaking wet.
Up close, you could even make out the pattern of her bra through the fabric.
Just earlier, she could've sworn it hadn't been this sheer in the restroom…
Panicked, Serena clutched the blanket tightly. As she looked up again, she found herself locking eyes with Sean Wallace's smiling gaze.
She recognized him.
Portryn's man of the hour, third son of the Wallace Family.
Serena was stunned.
What on earth was he doing here?
Adrian lounged elegantly on the sofa, his legs crossed, fingers drumming the armrest with casual indifference.
Sean Wallace's eyes flicked back and forth between them, finally settling on Serena, feigning surprise in his tone.
"Well, well, if it isn't Serena Stanton. Long time no see."
"Out of eight billion people in the world, and you two run into each other here—exes reunited, what are the odds! Fate, pure fate, incredible!"
The world seemed frozen, locked on mute—lifeless and still.
The string that had been wound tight in Serena's mind suddenly snapped; her expression nearly fell apart.
"…"
Sean Wallace's entrance and his words ripped away that fragile façade of civility, leaving nothing behind—not even a trace of leeway.
Serena glanced sidelong at Adrian, relaxed on the sofa.
His handsome face showed no emotion as ever, as if he didn't care about anything. To him, she was no more than a passing stranger, utterly beneath his notice.
So he hadn't forgotten her; she simply no longer mattered to him.
The silence in the room was suffocating, almost eerie.
"Well now, why are you both so quiet?" Sean Wallace hadn't expected their silence to be this synchronized. "Come on, it's not like exes are sworn enemies; no need for all this awkwardness."
Serena pulled herself together and laid out the facts. "Young Master Wallace, the hotel mixed up our key cards and put me in the same room as him."
Sean glanced at Adrian.
"So I just appear in someone else's room for no reason and don't explain?" Adrian's voice was unreadable, but his presence alone was intimidating—every move carried a quiet threat.
After a beat, comprehension dawned on Sean's face. He turned to Serena. "Really sorry. New staff, not familiar with the procedures, gave out the wrong room. How about this—all your expenses at the hotel during your stay are on the house. That includes your room, drinks, anything you want, and no time limit—stay as long as you like."
"No need to apologize. I don't need any compensation."
All Serena wanted was to put distance between her and Adrian. She spoke calmly, "If it's convenient for you, maybe you two can talk somewhere else?"
Sean threw another glance at Adrian, who now looked as frosty as if he'd just been plucked from an icebox.
Serena sensed a searing gaze directed at her, burning hot, but she didn't look back to check.
"Of course," Sean replied readily with a smile. "This is your room."