Nyra’s breath hitched completely as she felt the full, solid weight of Adrian’s body pressing her down into the plush mattress, his fingers holding her wrists in an iron grip right above her head.
She was trapped, entirely at his mercy in the pale moonlight, but she refused to let him see how fast her heart was hammering against her ribs.
Instead of struggling or trying to physically twist out of his hold, she narrowed her eyes, letting a dangerously slow, mocking smirk spread across her lips.
"Is this your big strategy, mr. Expensive shirt ?"
she purred, her voice dripping with pure, unadulterated sarcasm as she looked straight into his dark eyes.
"The great, untouchable billionaire has to resort to pinning a girl down in the dark just to stop her from throwing a pillow at his face? Wow. I’ve gotta say, I am profoundly underwhelmed by your combat skills, you absolute fucking caveman."
Adrian froze.
For a split second, his entire stoic facade completely cracked.
His jaw tightened sharply, and his breath caught in his throat as her words hit him right where it hurt—his pride.
He hadn't expected her to be this bold, or this close, and the sudden realization of just how intimately their bodies were tangled together seemed to hit him all at once.
"You talk too much," he growled, his deep voice dropping an octave, sounding rough, strained, and heavily affected by her proximity.
"And you don't talk enough, you prick," Nyra shot back instantly, leaning her head up just a fraction of an inch to close the distance between them.
"Now get the fuck off me before I find out if your shins are as tough as your ego."
Adrian stared at her for a beat longer, his gaze dropping to her lips for a tense, volatile second before he abruptly let go of her wrists and rolled away.
He stood up from the bed entirely, ignoring her as he marched back toward the washroom, but Nyra didn’t miss the way his shoulders were unusually rigid.
She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, throwing herself back onto the pillows with a triumphant grin.
Round one belonged to her.
_
The next morning, the grand penthouse was absolutely flooded with bright, cheerful sunlight, but the atmosphere downstairs in the dining room was nothing short of a tactical minefield.
Nyra strolled into the kitchen, fully expecting to see the usual massive, spread-out breakfast buffet on the grand marble island.
Instead,
she stopped dead in her tracks, her eyes widening in utter disbelief at the scene before her.
Mrs. Gable—or Martha, as Nyra had officially learned her name was—had completely cleared the massive island.
In fact, she had purposefully blocked off every single barstool except for two, which were pushed so ridiculously close together that their wooden legs were practically touching.
And right in front of those two seats sat a single, massive, steaming skillet of traditional shakshuka, alongside exactly one basket of toasted artisan bread and a single jar of juice.
Adrian was already sitting in one of the cramped seats, looking incredibly sharp in his tailored charcoal suit jacket, though he looked like he wanted to murder the entire world.
He was currently staring down at the single skillet with a look of pure, unbridled irritation.
"Good morning, sunshine!" Martha called out cheerfully, stepping out from the pantry with a stack of napkins. She gave Nyra a bright, knowing wink.
"Martha..." Nyra started, gesturing to the cramped setup, "what exactly is going to happen here?"
"Oh, don't mind the setup, dear," Martha replied smoothly, her tone filled with pure, innocent mischief.
"The younger maids accidentally locked the cabinet with the extra plates, and since Adrian over here won't give them the master key override, I guess you two are just going to have to share one plate and one skillet. It’s called forced family bonding. Eat up!"
Nyra had to fight the massive urge to burst out laughing at the absolute genius of the older woman.
She glanced at Adrian, who was rubbing his temples, his knuckles turning white.
"Grandma, this is ridiculous,"
Adrian muttered, his voice dangerously low. "Unlock the cabinets. Now."
"I don't have the keys, boy, you do!" Martha shot back playfully, completely unbothered by his terrifying billionaire glare.
She patted Nyra on the back. "Sit down, sweetheart. Don't let him starve you out of your own home."
Nyra happily hopped onto the vacant stool, her shoulder immediately brushing against Adrian’s suit jacket.
She could feel the tense, radiating heat coming off him, and it only fueled her desire to tease him mercilessly.
"Well, well, well," Nyra sighed dramatically, deliberately leaning into his space as she picked up a piece of toasted bread.
"Look at us, Mr. Expensive shirt.Sharing a romantic, cozy little breakfast. Aren't you just thrilled?"
Adrian didn't move an inch, but his jaw muscle leaped.
"Eat your breakfast, Nyra."
"Oh, I will," she said, deliberately dipping her bread right into the center of the skillet, directly where he had been about to dip his own.
She looked up at him through her eyelashes, giving him a sweet, incredibly fake smile.
"Mmm, it's absolutely delicious. You should try some, unless you're afraid of getting too close to me?"
Adrian slowly lowered his fork, turning his head to look at her.
The stoic, unbothered mask he usually wore around the world was completely gone, replaced by a dark, intense look of sheer frustration.
He leaned in closer, his voice a low, dangerous whisper that sent a thrill right down her spine.
"You think you're incredibly clever, don't you? Pushing my buttons first thing in the morning."
"I don't think, fucker, I know," she whispered back fiercely, her eyes locking with his.
"You locked me out of the guest rooms, so now you have to deal with me at breakfast. Every. Single. Second."
Adrian stared at her, his eyes darkening as he took a slow, deliberate breath, visibly trying to regain his iron control.
He reached out, his fingers brushing against hers as he took the bread basket away from her side, his gaze never leaving her face. "You're playing a very dangerous game, Nyra."
"Oh, please," Nyra scoffed, though her pulse was absolutely racing at the sudden contact. "I love dangerous games. And right now? I'm winning."
From across the kitchen,
Martha casually leaned against the counter, taking a slow sip of her own tea as she watched the young couple bicker with an absolute victory smirk on her face.
The penthouse might have been cold and minimalist,
but the fire between these two was about to burn the whole place down.
" TO BE CONTINUED "
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Author's note...
Hey everyone 🖤
I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I know it’s a bit short this time, so I’m really sorry about that…
Please do let me know your thoughts in the comments—I’d love to hear what you think about Nyra and Adrian’s dynamic so far 💌
Thank you for reading and supporting me 🖤
Bye bye dear readers 👋 👋 👋 👋
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