Adrien's POV
Three hours.
Three entire hours of complete silence. No whining and eyes glaring at me. No clumsy crashing of coffee mugs or tripping over wires. Just her, sitting there like a half-dead zombie, clearly fighting not to fall asleep.
Isabella.
The tiny, annoying gold digger─sitting across from me. looking like she'd wrestled with traffic and lost. Which she probably had.
She looked... exhausted.
Good.
She deserved it. Walking into my life, acting like she needed this job. She probably thought working under me would give her an easy way up. Typical.
I glanced up again. Her head had dropped slightly, her eyelids fluttering like they were staging a rebellion. She was fighting it, blinking slowly like each breath was a war against sleep.
Pathetic.
No─disgusting. Or at least she should be.
Except…
Except her lips were slightly parted. Her hair─still a bit of a mess from whatever chaoss she'd been through─framed her face in this irritatingly... soft way. Her entire body was slouched like she'd been running for days, her arms are folded like a cocoon, legs tucked awkwardly to the side. She looked like she was hanging on by a thread.
Cute.
I meant annoying. Completely, utterly annoying.
I leaned back, dragging my eyes away from her and biting the inside of my cheek.
Just as her eyes finally slipped shut, her head leaning ever so slightly to the side and then...the perfect idea struck me.
"Mrs. Miller," I called, keeping my voice steady.
She jolted like someone had jammed a plug into her and flipped the switch her arms swinging slightly─ hair bouncing ─ eyes wide and alarmed.
"I'm awake! I'm awake!" she blurted, scrambling upright.
I turned to her with the calmest expression I could muster, biting back the satisfaction creeping into my chest.
"I need a bottle of water," I said, completely straight-faced.
But inside?
Yeah, I was thriving.
Let the games begin.
Isabella's POV
I swear this man is going to give me high blood pressure.
Just as I finally─finally─felt myself slipping into the sweet arms of sleep, his stupid voice cut through the silence like a knife.
"Mrs. Miller."
I jolted so hard I nearly bit my tongue. Heart racing, pulse pounding in my ears, and for what? For what?
"I'm awake! I'm awake!" I said quickly, my voice embarrassingly loud.
I looked at him.
He was staring at me like I was the unreasonable one.
"I need a bottle of water," he said coolly. Like I wasn't dying over here. Like he hadn't been watching me the entire time just to wait for the moment I dozed off. I swear I'm gonna kill him
I blinked. Slowly.
Smile, Isabella. Smile before you launch a bottle of anything at his stupid chiseled soul-sucking face.
"Of course, sir," I said, forcing my legs to move even though they screamed in protest.
Every cell in my body ached. But no, Adrien freaking Walton wanted a bottle of water at 38,000 feet like he was the King of the Sky.
I grabbed the bottle from the mini fridge and walked back to him then I handed it over with what I hoped was a professional, definitely-not-murderous expression.
He didn't even say thank you.
I hate him.
I seriously hate him.
And if I survive this trip, I'm praying karma doesn't take a day off.
****
The jet touched down with a gentle bump, but the ache in my back made it feel like we'd crashed into a mountain. I hadn't slept. Not even for five minutes. Every time I even blinked for too long, Adrien needed something─water, a file, the temperature adjusted by one degree. I'm convinced he was doing it on purpose.
As the jet run down the runway, I stared out the window half-hoping someone would pull me off the plane and send me back home for looking too exhausted.
But no. My punishment wasn't over.
Adrien stood first, stretching like he hadn't just tortured me for three hours straight. He looked fresh. Calm. Not a single wrinkle on his stupid designer suit.
Meanwhile, I looked like a baked potato someone stepped on.
"Let's go," he said as he grabbed his coat.
I forced myself up, dragging my carry-on behind me like it weighed a thousand pounds. I barely had time to steady myself before Adrien strode off the jet, his manner of walking as stiff and imposing as always. He didn't even wait for me to get my remaining bearings before he climbed into the car parked on the tarmac.
The door slammed shut, and before I could react, he rolled down the window.
His eyes met mine, cold as ever.
"The hotel's called The Royal Palm," he said, his voice casual like we were just having a normal conversation. "Make sure you don't beat me there."
I blinked. What? Are you kidding me!!!
He didn't even wait for a response. He just rolled the window back up─quickly─and the driver stepped on the gas. The black SUV took off, leaving me standing there on the tarmac in a cloud of dust.
What the hell?
I stood frozen for a moment my mouth hanging open as I watched the car vanish into the distance.
No. No way. He didn't just do that.
But he did. The freaking monster.
I clenched my fists. I should've seen this coming. What did I expect from someone who treats his employees like walking robots?
Sighing in frustration I pulled my phone out of my bag and ordered a ride. My only hope was that I'd make it there faster than him. But given the way things were going I was probably going to end up driving in circles.
I looked at the glowing screen wishing I could throw the phone at his face.
I had barely made it through the glass doors of The Royal Palm when a sleek black car pulled up in front of the hotel. And of course, out stepped the Devil himself ─ Adrien freaking Walton ─ not a single wrinkle on his suit, not a single strand of hair out of place.
I, on the other hand looked like I have run through a thunderstorm and lost the fight. Twice.
He didn't even look at me. No acknowledgment or a you made it just right on time. No smirk. Nothing. He just walked straight to the reservation desk like I didn't exist.
I trailed after him still catching my breath from the rollercoaster of a ride. Adrien got the room keys handed to him in a matter of seconds ─ because of course rich people had magic powers─ then turned to me with a blank face.
"Follow me," he said.
I didn't argue. I was too tired, too irritated, and frankly, I'm too close to throwing one of my heels at his irritatin face.
We took the elevator in complete silence. The hallway to the suites was eerily quiet, the kind of place that whispered money. He stopped in front of one of the doors and swiped the key card, and pushed it open.
"There are clothes waiting for you inside," he said without looking at me. "Change. Take a bath or something. And do something about that hair ─ you look like a nursing mum."
My jaw dropped.
Before I could even process a reply, he turned on his heel and walked off leaving me in the doorway with my exhaustion and all the curses in the world bubbling on my tongue.
One week in hell, I thought, and now I've apparently upgraded to being an overworked, sleep-deprived, nursing mum with bad hair.
Lovely.