Chapter 3: Beneath the Ice
Elena POV
Adrian whispered, his breath warm on my neck, "Stand still."
The cold weight of the diamonds suddenly seemed heavier than it should have, and I froze as his hands repositioned the delicate necklace around my collarbone.
I hurriedly answered, "It's fine," in a tighter voice than I had meant.
Ignoring me, he pressed his fingers to my flesh and secured the clasp. The sudden proximity made my heart beat. Adrian Blackwood was a guy who didn't linger; he moved with efficiency and purpose. However, his hands lingered for an excessive amount of time before he took a step back.
He murmured, his voice pinched once again, "Perfect."
I looked at him, trying to gather myself. His dark hair was brushed back nicely, and his black tuxedo was perfectly fitted, making him seem flawless as always. However, there was a gentler, almost hesitating quality to his look tonight.
I managed to smooth down the silk of my robe and said, "Thank you."
His cold mask slipped back into place securely as he bowed his head. "You'll succeed."
The moment was gone in an instant.
Like all the previous events we went to, the gala was filled with flashing lights, whispered greetings, and a sea of strangers acting as if they were friends. Adrian performed his role with ease, his charm as polished and piercing as his cufflinks.
I stood by his side, laughing when he asked me to and smiling when he asked, but in reality, I felt like a mannequin on exhibit. I was still an outsider, an actress in someone else's life, regardless of how beautiful the dress or how costly the jewelry.
It was quickly brought to my attention by someone.
A tall, well-groomed lady with a champagne glass in her hand purred, "Adrian." Her gaze passed over me with hardly disguised contempt, then shifted to his. "You married Charity, but you didn't tell me."
Even though the remarks hurt, I tried to keep my expression neutral.
Adrian's normal calmness cracked just a little as his jaw tensed. "Claire," he began with a smoothness that gave his voice a sharp edge I had never heard before, "I don't remember asking for your opinion."
The lady blinked in astonishment as her grin wavered. "Elena is my wife, and you will treat her with respect," Adrian said, placing a steady, strong palm on the small of my back.
Before she could reply, he pushed us away, holding on to me until we were out of hearing.
He looked into my eyes and said, "Are you okay?"
Even though Adrian asked such a simple question, it seemed enormous.
"Yes," I answered in a voice that was hardly audible.
He led me back into the throng after nodding, his face inscrutable.
Long after we got home, we couldn't shake the recollection of his defense. I mentally relived the scene, attempting to interpret the change in his attitude. Despite being a guy who prized control above all else, Adrian Blackwood had allowed his emotions to get the better of him in that particular situation.
Was it real worry? Or simply another well-thought-out attempt to preserve the appearance of a flawless marriage?
I discovered him at the library the next morning, holding a newspaper in one hand and a hot cup of coffee in the other. As I walked in, he glanced up, and his face was devoid of any hint of irritation for once.
To my surprise, he said, "Good morning."
I lingered in the doorway and carefully answered, "Good morning."
He pointed to the chair on the other side. "Come with me."
Uncertain of what to think of his unexpected kindness, I paused before seating.
I felt my skin tingle as he put the newspaper down and leaned back to examine me. "You did a good job managing yourself last night."
I responded, "Thank you," not knowing how to react.
"I mean it," he said in an unusually sincere tone. Claire is a lady who feeds on making others feel insignificant. You prevented her.
I acknowledged that I owed it to you.
The ice seemed to thaw for a minute as his lips curled into the tiniest hint of a grin.
But the warmth was gone as fast as it had arrived. Adrian stood up straight, his face stiffening again. Tomorrow, we have another event. Prepare by seven o'clock.
He then got up and walked out of the room, leaving me even more perplexed.
As the days went by, I started to see more rifts in Adrian's hard façade. Small gestures like softly saying my name when he thought no one was listening, adjusting my chair at a dinner party so I wouldn't strain under the long train of my dress, and silently holding the elevator door open for me.
These brief displays of compassion from a guy who generally looked emotionless were disarming.
Nevertheless, I couldn't get rid of the impression that everything was a well-planned front.
Late one night, the genuine twist was revealed.
I heard footsteps coming from where I was sitting in the library, reading a book. When I looked up, I saw Adrian standing in the doorway with his normally impeccable looks a little disheveled and his tie untied.
"Elena," he said softly.
I put the book down because of something in his tone. "Is everything okay?"
He looked away and didn't answer right away. Then he sighed and moved across the room to sit in the chair across from me.
"Have you ever felt stuck?" he said abruptly.
It was a surprise question. Did Adrian Blackwood, the affluent guy, feel stuck?
"Sometimes," I cautiously acknowledged. "Why?"
I was temporarily stunned by the unusually vulnerable gesture he made as he ran a hand through his hair.
"This life isn't as perfect as it seems," he said softly.
The troubled expression in his eyes prevented me from pressing him to explain what he meant.
Rather, I remarked, "You know, you could go. Get out of here.
He laughed bitterly. "It's not that easy."
Between us, there was a hush that was thick with spoken realities.
His phone rang just when I thought he could open up even more. His face darkened as he looked at the screen.
He stood up suddenly and said, "I have to go."
"Adrian—"
He responded curtly, "Goodnight, Elena," and started to go.
Something about his actions bothered me, even though I didn't see him again for the remainder of the evening. Adrian Blackwood was not who he seemed to be, and I was determined to find out what it was.
The next day, I went to his office because of that resolve.
I knew I shouldn't have been there while he was out, but my curiosity won out. Aside from one closed drawer, his desk was spotless.
I gazed at it, my heart pounding. I knew it was in there, whatever Adrian was concealing.
I started looking around the room for the key before I could stop myself.
Then I discovered it on his shelf, hidden inside a book.
I opened the drawer and yanked it open with shaking hands. A tiny, unmarked black packet and a stack of paperwork were found inside.
The consequences of my actions weighed heavily on me as I paused, but I was unable to halt at this point.
As I opened the envelope and read the words scribbled on the sheet, I gasped.
Then everything made sense.
Adrian had more than one secret to conceal. I was being concealed by him.