The Kiss That Proved Nothing

By Friday, Adrian had barely spoken to me.

He left early, returned late, and answered my messages with single words. At work, I spent eleven hours revising a campaign for a client who couldn't decide whether blue looked too serious. By the time I left the studio, my eyes burned.

Claire caught me at the elevator. "You look like you haven't slept."

"It's the campaign."

"Elliot."

I stared at the floor numbers. Claire had the irritating gift of making silence feel dishonest.

"He had someone at the apartment," I admitted. "His assistant."

"And?"

"And I'm probably overreacting."

"Do you hear how quickly you defend him?"

The elevator opened. I stepped in before she could see my eyes fill.

That evening Marcus posted another story. A private lounge. Expensive bottles. Noah leaning into Adrian, holding a glass to his mouth. The location tag was a bar ten minutes from my office.

I should have gone home. Instead, I walked there in the rain.

Music leaked into the hallway outside the private room. When I opened the door, a dozen faces turned toward me at once. The room smelled of liquor, perfume, and money.

Noah was pressed against Adrian on the leather couch. "Come on, Mr. Sterling. Finish this one for me."

He lifted the glass. Adrian looked at it without enthusiasm. Then his gaze settled on me.

Marcus grinned. "Well, if it isn't Elliot."

I crossed the room. My heart was pounding so hard I could feel it in my wrists, but my voice remained steady.

"Noah, are you an assistant or a nightclub promoter?"

His smile froze. "Excuse me?"

I inspected the bottles on the table. "If you're pushing drinks this hard, you should at least earn a commission. Open ten more bottles. Put them on Mr. Sterling's tab."

Laughter broke around us. Noah flushed. For once, I had landed the first blow.

I took the glass from his hand. "Here. Let me show you."

Adrian watched with a faint, dangerous smile as I sat sideways across his lap. I took a sip of whiskey, curled my fingers into his hair, and kissed him.

He responded immediately. One arm locked around my waist, drawing me closer. The kiss was hot and familiar and devastating because, for a handful of seconds, I could pretend he wanted me without reservation.

When I pulled away, Marcus whistled.

"That's how you make a sale," I told Noah.

The room erupted. Noah rose so abruptly that his glass struck the table. He hurried out without another word.

Someone shouted, "Elliot, kiss me like that and I'll buy the whole cellar!"

Adrian's eyes cut toward him. The man fell silent.

"Possessive as ever," Marcus muttered.

Adrian tightened his arm around my waist. I hated that the gesture warmed me.

"Come with me," he said into my ear.

He pulled me into a private hallway outside the lounge and kissed me against the wall. I gripped his shirt, caught between wanting him and wanting to ask why desire was the only language he ever spoke to me fluently.

"Adrian." I drew back. "Will you introduce me as your boyfriend at the Sterling Foundation dinner next week?"

His hand went still at my hip.

"Why?"

"Because I am your boyfriend."

"It's a business event."

"You've taken your friends to business events."

"Don't start."

"I'm not starting anything. I just want to stand beside you without everyone pretending I'm a stranger."

He straightened his cuffs. "You always choose the worst moment for these conversations."

My face burned. Inside the lounge, someone laughed at a joke I couldn't hear.

"All right," I said. "Then tell me when the right moment is."

He didn't answer.

We returned to the group separately. Marcus had switched the music and was pouring champagne. Adrian dropped into his seat as though nothing had happened.

"Big news," Marcus announced. "Sebastian's flight lands Tuesday."

The change in Adrian was almost invisible. His shoulders lifted. He put down his drink. Then he reached for his phone.

"Sebastian Ashford?" someone asked. "Back for good?"

"Apparently," Marcus said. "Adrian, you organizing the welcome?"

"I'll handle it."

He was smiling. Not the polite curve he gave shareholders, but the smile I'd spent seven years trying to earn.

I heard myself ask, "What happens to me when Sebastian comes back?"

Silence settled over the couch.

Adrian glanced up. "Don't make this about you."

The sentence was soft enough that no one else needed to hear it.

I looked at the empty place where Noah had been sitting. Then I looked at Adrian and understood that winning a kiss in front of a roomful of people had proven nothing at all.