On the next day Cassian's hand brushes the small of my back as we walk out of the literature building, and I'm still floating on the high of our conversation about post-modern feminist theory.
Then I saw the black Audi parked across the street, and my stomach dropped through the concrete.
Through the lowered window, Adrian’s eyes lock onto me with laser focus. He doesn't move, doesn't wave, doesn't do anything except watch me with the intensity of a predator who's spotted his prey wandering too close to another animal's territory.
Cassian's gaze followed mine and his whole body tensed as if about to attack. He's recognized Adrian. Of course he has. Everyone in the literature department knows what the former Professor Lewis looks like.
"Is he bothering you?"
"It's fine." I touch his arm, hoping he can't feel my pulse racing. "I knew him before… the incident happened."
And I was drawn into this chaos, but you won't know about it.
“He probably just wants to talk.”
"Sophie…"
"I'll be okay. Really." I force a smile that feels brittle on my face. "I'll text you later?"
Cassian's jaw tightens, and I can see him warring with himself—wanting to object, wanting to march over there and say something that would only make everything worse.
"Be careful with this man." He says finally, and the genuine concern in his voice makes my chest ache.
I watch him walk away, his shoulders tense, glancing back twice before he disappears around the corner. Then I cross the street toward the Audi, my legs feeling like they're filled with sand.
Adrian’s already standing outside. The passenger door swings open before I'm even at the curb.
"Get in." The same tone he'd use in the red room.
"Actually, I have plans."
"Get. In. The car. Sophie."
I should walk away. I should tell him to go fuck himself. Instead, I slide into the passenger seat.
The door slams behind me so hard I flinch. Adrian rounds the car with predatory grace, his movements controlled but radiating barely contained fury.
The drive to his estate passes in suffocating silence. I stare out the window, watching the city blur into countryside, hyperaware of his white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel. Every few minutes, his jaw flexes like he's physically biting back words.
I should say something. Break the tension. But part of me wants to see him struggle, wants to watch him squirm with whatever jealousy or possessiveness is clearly eating him alive.
Good, I think viciously. Now you know how it feels.
The moment we're through his front door, Adrian's control snaps like a rubber band stretched too far.
"How long have you been fucking him?"
The question hits like a slap. I spin to face him, anger flaring hot and immediate in my chest.
"That's not—"
"I saw the way he looked at you." Adrian stalks toward me, and I back up instinctively until my shoulders hit the wall. His hand slams against the marble beside my head. "You think I can't recognize when a man wants to bury himself inside what's mine?"
"I'm not yours." The words come out stronger than I feel. "Our arrangement was purely physical, remember? No strings, no commitments, no fucking feelings allowed."
"That doesn't mean—"
"It means exactly what you wanted it to mean."
I lift my chin, refusing to cower even as his proximity makes my pulse race. "You don't get to disappear for five months, leave me to deal with the fallout of your scandal alone, and then show up demanding explanations for how I've been spending my time."
Something dangerous flickers in his eyes. "So you have been fucking him."
"What I do with my body is none of your business." My voice shakes, but I push through it. "You wanted an arrangement without obligations? Congratulations, you got one. That means I don't owe you exclusivity when you've never offered me the same."
"I—"
"Things we used to have will never be the same, Adrian." I meet his gaze head-on, channeling every ounce of strength Cassian helped me find.
For a long moment, he just stares at me—chest heaving, eyes blazing with something between fury and desperation. I've never seen him this unraveled, this close to losing the iron control he wears like armor.
Then something dark and primal flashes across his face.
His mouth crashes down on mine before I can react—pure claiming, raw dominance that makes my knees buckle despite my anger.
There's nothing gentle about this kiss. It's punishment and possession, teeth and tongue and five months of pent-up hunger unleashed all at once.
My traitorous body melts into him like it's been programmed to respond to his touch.
Adrian growls against my mouth, both hands capturing my wrists and pinning them above my head against the cold marble wall.
His thigh slots between mine, pressing up, and the friction against my core drags a moan from my throat that I hate myself for making.
"Still think you're not mine?" he murmurs against my neck, teeth grazing my pulse. His free hand slides down my body, over my breast, my waist, my hip, until his fingers find the hem of my skirt.
"Adrian, wait…"
"You're already wet." His fingers press against me through my panties, and I gasp at the contact. "Your body knows who it belongs to, even if your stubborn mouth won't admit it."
He's right. God help me, he's right. I'm soaked through the thin fabric, my hips grinding against his hand without my permission, my back arching off the wall to press closer to his heat.
"Use the safe word if you disagree," he breathes against my ear, fingers tracing the edge of my panties. "Use it and I—"
The front door opens.
We both freeze. Adrian's hand is still between my legs, my wrists still pinned above my head, our bodies pressed together in a position that leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination.
Heels click against marble with unhurried precision.
"Adrian, darling." The voice is husky, amused, completely at ease—like walking in on this scene is mildly entertaining rather than mortifying. "I hope you don't mind if I let myself in."
Adrian pulls away from me so fast it's almost violent. His expression transforms into something I've never seen before—vulnerability mixed with panic, like a child caught doing something forbidden.
My skirt falls back into place as I press myself against the wall, heart hammering, trying to process what's happening.
A woman appears in the foyer archway, moving like liquid silk poured into human form.
She's older than me, early forties, maybe, but age has only refined her beauty into something devastating. Dark hair falls in natural soft waves over her shoulders, and something about the style makes my stomach clench with recognition I can't quite place.
Then it hits me.
Soft waves. Natural curls. The way Adrian asked me to style my hair that night before we went to the red room.
The realization crashes through me like ice water. He'd been asking me to look like her.
"Some things never change." The woman lights a cigarette with practiced grace, studying me with knowing amusement that makes me feel like a specimen under glass. "She's lovely, Adrian. Very much fits the pattern."
Pieces click together with devastating clarity. The hair. The casual intimacy in her voice. The way she moved through his home like she belonged here...
"Lolita." Adrian's voice is strained in a way I've never heard. "What… How did you…."
“Be careful, your boner is about to break through the ceiling with joy.” She laughs playfully, throwing her head back, as if there is something funny in this situation.
With no doubts she speaks to him like they share history, secrets.
Like I'm just the latest in a long line of girls Adrian has pinned against walls and claimed with his mouth. Like I don’t matter, only him and her.
I push past both of them toward the door, my vision blurring with tears I refuse to let fall.
"Sophie." Adrian's voice carries that edge of command. "We're not finished talking."
I spin to face him, and something in my expression makes him take a step back.
"Actually, I believe we are."
I flee into the night before either of them can stop me, Lolita's knowing laugh echoing behind me like a curse.