Chapter 5
Luca froze mid–step, but I kept walking.
Ready to get soaked in the downpour when a large umbrella suddenly appeared above me.
In one smooth motion, I was pulled against a warm body that smelled of expensive cologne.
The hand holding the umbrella was pale and cool as marble.
Cutting through Luca’s barely contained rage, a measured voice spoke:
“Mr. Russo should attend to his own affairs.”
“Miss Rockefeller is in my care now.”
How many years since I’d heard that formal address?
My breath caught as I looked up, meeting those obsidian eyes cold enough to freeze hell.
Hilary Lynch, with his perfect composure and aristocratic bearing.
Hard to believe this was the same sickly boy who once filled his attic with sketches of my face.
I instinctively stepped back, but his arm locked firmly around my waist.
He tilted the black umbrella slightly, his thin lips forming the faintest smile.
Those dark eyes never leaving mine.
“Two more steps, Miss Rockefeller, and you’ll be beyond my umbrella’s protection.”
“Or perhaps you’re still the same rebellious girl–always running away?”
The umbrella tilted closer to me, heat creeping up my neck.
The year I escaped to New Jersey, I absolutely despised Hilary Lynch.
The thought of spending my life with someone so proper and boring had seemed like a death
sentence.
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That’s why I fell for his complete opposite in Luca, transforming myself into everything wild and provocative.
But now, face–to–face with Hilary again, I felt stripped back to my original self.
I awkwardly straightened, feigning sophistication while avoiding his penetrating gaze.
“Whatever. If I catch pneumonia, my father will have your head.”
This entitled, bratty attitude was something Hilary had always indulged in me.
Behind me, Luca’s eyes narrowed to slits as he watched.
My final glimpse in the rearview mirror was just his silhouette, standing motionless in the rain.
Luca had been right about one thing.
Those ten years with him had been nothing but a detour.
My family had laid everything out perfectly.
Study abroad with Hilary, return home, inherit the family empire.
Hilary was the man my parents had groomed, exceptional in temperament, looks, and talent.
But I rebelled. The day after my debutante ball, I changed my college application and fled under the pretense of education.
For ten years, my family never came looking.
I’d assumed they were too ashamed, ready to cut me off completely.
Now, as Hilary guided his Bentley through traffic, he calmly explained:
“I requested your parents refrain from pursuing you,” he said, his voice cultured and precise.
Though only two years my senior, he possessed that penetrating intensity of someone who could dissect your soul with a glance.
“I knew you would return when you’d… experienced enough. There was no rush.”
1 dug my nails into my fingertips, suddenly embarrassed.
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Experienced enough? I wasn’t “done playing“-I was crawling back with a broken heart.
Staring absently as familiar landmarks appeared, I whispered:
“Am I completely pathetic, Hilary?”
The car smelled of sandalwood, his signature scent.
Exhausted and tear–stained, I was about to drift off against the headrest.
Then I heard something unexpected from this perpetually composed man.
His knuckles whitened on the steering wheel as he spoke with controlled intensity.
“Has no one informed you of proper etiquette, Miss Rockefeller?”
“One doesn’t discuss former lovers in the presence of one’s fiancé.”
The air in the car solidified.
My oversized T–shirt slid down one pale shoulder.
Hilary’s Adam’s apple bobbed once, his only tell.
He stopped at a red light. In those 78 seconds of stillness, he exhaled softly.
Unbuckling, he lifted me effortlessly onto his lap, removing my damp sneakers.
With methodical precision, Hilary replaced my shoes and adjusted my clothing.
Returning me to my seat, he simply stated:
“He failed to provide adequate care these past ten years.”
Not a question–a clinical observation.
I wanted to argue, to defend myself, but instead felt that telltale tightness in my throat.
The plush comfort against my feet felt like a drug I couldn’t quit.
It made me want to collapse into Hilary’s arms and just break down.
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The car sliced through the rain, moving forward.
Noting my glassy eyes, Hilary spoke softly.
“The most effective way to forget a previous chapter, Miss Rockefeller, is to begin writing the next.”
With him, I’d always acted on impulse.
The moment he finished speaking, I commanded:
“Pull over.”
His hand on the wheel hesitated.
Hilary looked perplexed but complied without question.
The instant he engaged the parking brake, I climbed across the console and straddled his lap.
Hilary tensed beneath me, attempting to create distance.
The extra space only fed the dark possessiveness growing inside me.
Red–eyed, I grabbed his silk tie, ordering with a mix of entitlement and vulnerability:
“Hold me, Hilary.”
His hands, suspended at my thighs, twitched slightly.
He gave a soft laugh, though his eyes betrayed something deeper.
“Your aversion to me has… diminished?”
I used to hate everything about Hilary–his restraint, his formality, his perfect adherence to rules.
My greatest desire had been to see that marble facade crack.
But now, watching his collarbone flush beneath his pristine shirt, his throat working,
I suddenly realized this ice prince had his own magnetic pull.
I’d always loved watching perfect people fall from grace.
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His arms tightened with deliberate slowness, eliminating what little space remained between us.
When Hilary’s cool lips met mine, my mind blanked for a heartbeat.
Then desire overtook reason. I clutched his neck, pressing him down hard.
I bit Hilary viciously, trying to channel all my pent–up emotions through this man who seemed
untouchable.
Then the power shifted. Hilary captured my wrists behind my back with one hand.
He pressed me back against the steering wheel.
I was completely disheveled, my hair cascading over his shoulders.
The phone on the console suddenly blared to life.
I tried to decline but accidentally hit accept.
A voice like shattered glass came through the speaker.
“Adora, you left your shit at my place.”
“I’m coming to New York for business next week. I’ll bring everything.”
My breathless panting and the unmistakable sounds of kissing transmitted with perfect clarity.
I pressed my forehead against Hilary’s, signaling him to end the call, when something shattered
violently on Luca’s end.
“ADORA! ANSWER ME, GODDAMNIT!” Luca thundered, his mob boss voice in full effect.
My hands remained pinned behind me by Hilary, forcing my body into an arched display.
My lips were captured by Hilary’s fingers, applying calculated pressure.
Hilary’s lips curved slightly, his voice refined yet unmistakably taunting.
“Miss Rockefeller is otherwise engaged. I’m afraid she can’t accommodate your call, Mr. Russo.”
Even with his lip bleeding from my bite, he maintained perfect composure.
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Luca sounded like he was demolishing his surroundings.
“You fucking touch her and I’ll carve you into pieces and feed you to the fucking sharks!”
Hilary remained unruffled. “You’re welcome to attempt that, Mr. Russo.”
He ended the call, studying my unfocused expression.
“You won’t disappoint me now, will you?” he murmured, his formal tone slipping just slightly.
He said it as though I might suddenly come to my senses and reject him.
Looking at his bloodied lip, my brain short–circuited.
“I’ve got your back. What are you worried about?”
As I wrapped my arms around Hilary’s neck to kiss him again, a recording played through the car
speakers.
Hilary’s lips curled into a subtle smirk as he brushed them against mine.
“Than. Adora,” he whispered, using my name instead of his usual formal address.
that controlled smile right off his perfect face.
