Later that evening, as the clock ticked toward seven, Amara stood in front of her mirror, holding the dress against her body. It was stunning — far too stunning for a simple dinner with someone like Adrian Blackwell. The black fabric shimmered in the light, hugging her figure in a way that made her feel almost… *exposed*.
She sighed, shaking her head. She didn't understand what was happening between them. One moment, Adrian was cold, distant, almost like he was trying to shut her out. And the next, he was sending her a dress, forcing her into this strange dinner.
But she couldn't avoid it now.
The doorbell rang.
Her stomach twisted into a tight knot. She stood there for a moment, staring at the dress, feeling a sense of unease settle in her chest. It wasn't just the dinner that worried her; it was Adrian himself. What did he want from her? And why was he suddenly so cold when he'd apologized so sincerely before?
She grabbed her purse, trying to shake the feeling that something was off, and walked toward the door.
---
*Adrian's Arrival*
When Amara opened the door, Adrian stood there in his suit, looking as composed as ever. His eyes flickered over her briefly, but he didn't offer the compliments she had half-expected.
: Amara's heart skipped a beat. "I don't know... I didn't ask for this."
Tessa leaned in, eyeing the dress with intrigue. "It's definitely expensive. That's for sure. Looks like Adrian's got something *special* planned for you."
Amara tried to shake off the chill that ran down her spine. She didn't want to admit it, but Tessa was probably right. It had to be from *Adrian*. She couldn't think of anyone else who would send her something like this, especially after the cold way he had spoken to her in the office.
"I really don't know what's going on," Amara admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. The thought of attending dinner with Adrian and his parents felt wrong, forced, like she was being pushed into a role she didn't want to play.
Tessa studied her for a moment, then smirked. "Well, looks like you're going no matter what. My advice? Just wear it. It's a pretty dress, and you've got nothing to lose."
Amara hesitated, running her fingers over the delicate fabric. *She didn't want to go*, but something in Adrian's tone earlier made her feel like she had no choice.
---
*The Dinner – Amara's Decision*He simply nodded and stepped inside, his demeanor cold, almost mechanical. "We should go," he said, his voice flat.
Amara didn't know how to react. The dress, the dinner, the silence between them — everything felt strange and forced.
"I… I didn't know you were going to send me a dress," she said, trying to break the silence, but her words came out more like an accusation.
Adrian didn't meet her eyes as he said, "It's a formal dinner. You needed something appropriate."
She stood there, feeling a wave of frustration building up inside her. He wasn't even looking at her, wasn't even explaining himself. She wasn't a *part* of his world — she was just a tool, something he could use, a role she hadn't asked for.
"I don't know why you're doing this," she said quietly, not able to keep the question in.
Adrian's eyes finally met hers, and for the first time in a long while, she saw something there — not warmth, but an intensity, an emotion hidden behind his usual mask of indifference.
"I didn't ask you to come," he said, his voice almost cold enough to freeze the air around them. "But you will. Because my parents are expecting you."
Amara stared at him, her heart racing in her chest. She had no choice, did she?
---
*The Car Ride – An Awkward Silence*
The car ride to *Adrian's parents' mansion* was suffocatingly silent, the kind of silence that pressed in from all sides.
Amara sat in the passenger seat, her hands tightly gripping her purse, the *silky dress* feeling a little too tight around her, a little too formal for what she had imagined the evening to be. She glanced over at Adrian, but he didn't look at her. He hadn't said a word since she stepped into the car, his eyes locked ahead, focused on the road as though he was already miles away in thought.
Amara couldn't help but feel like an outsider in this moment, like a piece of a puzzle she didn't belong to. Every time she tried to look at him, he remained distant, his sharp jawline set in a way that made it clear he wasn't interested in conversation.
She cleared her throat, breaking the silence. "You didn't… really explain why you're making me come to this dinner. Or why you're being so…" She trailed off, not sure how to finish the sentence. *Cold? Distant? Uncaring?*
Adrian's eyes flickered briefly to her before returning to the road. "My parents have expectations," he said flatly, as though it was all he needed to say.
Amara bit her lip, her frustration simmering beneath the surface. She had no idea what *kind* of expectations they had, but she knew they weren't good.
Another long stretch of silence filled the car, making the air between them thick and uncomfortable. The lights from passing cars reflected off the windows, casting fleeting shadows across Adrian's face, but there was no change in his expression. He didn't seem to care, and that made her feel even more alone than before.
---
*Adrian's Parents' Mansion – The Opulence*
After what felt like an eternity, the car finally turned onto a private, tree-lined drive. The trees parted to reveal a towering *mansion* looming in the distance. Amara's breath caught in her throat as she caught her first full glimpse of the Blackwell estate.
: The mansion was *massive* — *too massive* for any person to truly feel at home in. Its stone façade was cold and imposing, framed by towering columns that seemed to reach toward the sky. The front lawn was perfectly manicured, the grass impossibly green under the soft light of the evening. It looked like something straight out of a historical movie, a place where the past and present collided in the most unsettling way.
As the car rolled to a stop at the entrance, Amara felt her stomach churn. *This was the world Adrian came from.* This was his reality — a reality that seemed so far removed from her own.
The door opened, and a *butler* dressed in formal black attire stepped out, his expression as stoic as the mansion itself. Adrian didn't acknowledge him as he stepped out of the car, as if this was all just part of a routine.
Amara hesitated for a moment, taking in the intimidating grandeur of the house. *How did someone like Adrian live in a place like this?* The opulence almost felt like a prison — an endless maze of polished surfaces and cold spaces. It was the kind of place where love and warmth seemed like foreign concepts.
"Come on," Adrian's voice cut through the air, his tone clipped. "Let's go."
: Finally, they reached the grand dining room. The *long table* was set with fine china, crystal glasses, and silver utensils, each piece gleaming under the soft light of candles that flickered on either side of the table. The room smelled faintly of roses, and the walls were adorned with towering bookshelves, stocked with leather-bound volumes. It looked like a room built for business discussions, not family dinners.
Adrian's parents were already seated, his father, *Richard*, dressed in a tailored suit, his mother, *Elaine*, looking every bit the polished socialite in an elegant dress. They both looked up as Adrian and Amara entered, their expressions unreadable.
Elaine's lips curved into a polite smile, but there was something cold about it — a practiced smile, the kind she would offer a stranger. "Ah, Adrian," she said, her voice like ice. "And this must be Amara."
Richard nodded, his gaze sharp as he took in the sight of her. "Amara. I trust you're doing well?"
Amara nodded, feeling the weight of their gaze like a pressure on her chest. *This wasn't just a dinner.* It felt like an interrogation.
Adrian pulled out a chair for her, his movements sharp and efficient. He didn't look at her as she sat down, his attention already on his parents.