I don’t know how today managed to feel both like a fever dream and the softest day I’ve ever lived.
Right now, I’m in the back seat of a car worth more than my father’s house, dressed in a gown that took a small army to build, with my mask in my lap and my head on Adrien’s shoulder.
His hand is resting lightly on my thigh. His thumb keeps tracing slow, steady circles—like he knows I need grounding.
But all I can think about is how it started.
This morning, I woke up to an empty bed. And for a mont, I panicked. The kind of stupid panic you only get when you wake up alone after doing sothing as heinous as... falling asleep in the middle of kissing soone who looks like Adrien Walton.
I thought maybe I’d upset him. Maybe I’d ruined the mood. Maybe he was brooding sowhere on one of the many balconies, looking devastatingly handso and tragic in the morning light.
But no.
He was in the kitchen.
Cooking.
He was barefoot on the cool marble floor, wearing a pair of grey sweatpants that hung low on his hips, and nothing else. His back was to , muscles shifting under his skin as he hunched the stove, spatula in hand.
I leaned against the doorfra, my panic lting into a puddle of sothing warm and syrupy at my feet, watching him hum under his breath while plating strawberries.
"I’m trying to make them heart-shaped," he said without turning around. "It’s proving to be anatomically... difficult."
"How did you know I was here?" I asked, my voice still thick with sleep.
He finally turned, a smudge of flour on his cheekbone and a slow, devastating smile on his lips. "Your breathing changed. You always do this little sigh right when you fully wake up." He pointed the spatula at . "Also, you’ve been standing there for three minutes. I was giving you ti to appreciate the view."
I laughed, a real, unburdened sound. I padded over to him, wrapping my arms around his waist and resting my cheek against his warm back. "I thought I upset you last night."
His muscles tensed for a second before relaxing. "By falling asleep? Never." He flipped a mangled-looking pancake onto a plate. "You needed the rest. And besides," he turned in my arms, his hands coming up to cup my face, "I got to watch you sleep. It was unfairly cute."
He kissed then, slow and sweet, and tasting faintly of maple syrup.
We ate in the sunroom. He kept stealing my strawberries. I let him.
After breakfast, we showered and got ready for the chaos of the day ahead. By the ti we were sitting down to watch the movie, I was already floating in my own little world.
And here’s the thing: he actually sat down. With . For two whole hours. No interruptions. No work calls. No distractions. Just... us.
Sowhere around the thirty-minute mark, I fell asleep.
And he would pause the movie.
Waited.
Then pressed play again when I woke up.
It happened three tis.
He never complained.
He just looked down at like I was sothing precious and said, "We’ll finish it when you’re ready."
It was such a small thing, but it made my heart race every ti.
The movie finished, and just as I was getting cozy, Ruth arrived.
The transformation began again—faster this ti, more focused. The final fitting. The erald contacts. The serpent’s kiss.
The mask.
I couldn’t recognize myself in the mirror. And for once... that was the point.
The rest of the evening blurred. Light touches. Perfud skin. Final checks. My heart pounding too loudly. The car doors opening. His hand in mine.
And now—
now we’re here.
In the back of the car, the world outside a storm of cara flashes and golden lights. The engine hums beneath us, low and steady. My mask rests in my lap, delicate and glinting. Adrien hasn’t said a word, but his hand is warm over mine, thumb tracing gentle circles.
I lean against his shoulder, trying to calm the riot in my chest.
Through the tinted window, I see it. The golden gates of Eden.
Massive. Glowing. Sinister and stunning.
The Gala.
My breath catches as the door begins to open.
And then his voice, low and steady, wraps around .
"You ready?"
I nod once.
He offers a small, reassuring smile, then reaches over and gently picks up my mask from my lap. It’s heavy, intricately crafted, and cool against my skin as he carefully lifts it to my face. With a soft click, it’s secured around my head.
I didn’t realize I was holding my breath until Adrien’s hand squeezed mine.
"Stay close," he said, low enough for only to hear. "And let them look."
Then the door opened.
Flash.
Flash.
Flash.
Flash.
The light was blinding—like a thousand tiny suns exploding all at once. But Adrien stepped out first, unbothered, and commanding. The flashes didn’t faze him; if anything, they seed to bend around him. The crowd surged with sound, a soft gasp of recognition and hunger as they realized who had arrived.
And then he turned.
His hand extended toward , palm open, waiting.
I took it.
One foot out, then the other. Mask in place. Chin lifted.
And the world... froze.
Just for a second.
Then ca the avalanche of gasps, clicks, murmurs. The confusion. The awe.
"She’s stunning."
"Is she royalty?"
"Who is she? I’ve never seen him with anyone!"
"It’s the Serpent Queen! That’s the necklace from the auction!"
"The rumors are true. He has a woman."
"I wish we can see her face."
"Do you think she’s the heiress from—?"
"No way. She’s too poised. Too... ethereal."
The whispers followed us like a hungry, curious tide. Adrien’s grip on my hand was firm, a silent anchor in the storm of flashes. The security detail moved ahead of us, parting the crowd as we approached the towering Gates of Eden—massive golden arches wrapped in vines and gilded leaves. A woman in a shimring bodysuit danced above us in silks, twirling like a serpent mid-air.
It was surreal. It was intoxicating.
And it was just beginning.
Inside, the lighting changed. Softer, deeper. Green and amber up lights cast shadows like forest canopies. Crystal orbs reflected across the marble floors like scattered stars. Vines snaked up black columns, and gold apples glead in low glass bowls.
Everywhere I looked, power and temptation bled into beauty.
The walls shimred with projected animations: the creation of the mall, floor by floor, blooming like Genesis.
And then—Mr. Johnson.
He walked straight up to Adrien, clasping his hand with a broad smile.
"Walton," he greeted, "you made it." His eyes flicked to , a flash of sothing knowing passing through his smile. "And you brought your woman too."
Adrien said nothing, but his thumb brushed against the back of my hand.
Mr. Johnson turned to . "You look absolutely breathtaking tonight, Miss—" He caught himself. "Forgive . I ant, your presence is unforgettable."
I smiled. "Thank you, Mr. J─uh."
Mr. Johnson chuckled, a low, rumbling sound. "It’s okay. I know it is you behind the mask miss miller. Your bos─I an man, already told you were coming as his woman and not his personal assistant. Hehe."
My blood ran cold, then hot. A flush I was grateful the mask could hide crept up my neck. Mr. Johnson’s "hehe" echoed in my ears, a friendly little grenade tossed right at my carefully constructed poise.
Before I could stamr out a response, Adrien’s grip tightened on my hand, a silent, powerful command: I’ve got this.
He didn’t even look at Mr. Johnson, his gaze sweeping over the room as if assessing it for the first ti. "Johnson," he said, his voice a low, smooth drawl that cut through the surrounding chatter. "You always did have a knack for ruining a good mystery."
There was no heat in his words, only the easy authority of a man used to being in charge. It was a gentle rebuke, a playful warning. Mr. Johnson chuckled again, accepting the shift in power. "What can I say? I appreciate knowing all the players on the board."
As if on cue, a familiar voice joined us.
"There you are," Clara said, slipping in beside us in a soft, shimring ruby gown that hugged her figure like molten silk. Her mask was sleek and tallic, her blonde hair pinned into a gleaming knot. "I’ve been looking for you both."
"Clara," I said, my smile widening. "You look beautiful."
"So do you," she returned, leaning in slightly. "I practically wouldn’t recognize you if I hadn’t heard your voice. This look is... everything."
Her words were a welco balm, a mont of normalcy in the dazzling surrealist. I felt so of the tension leave my shoulders. "Only because you’re a vision in ruby. You’ll have to fight them off with a stick."
Clara laughed, a bright, genuine sound that cut through the curated elegance of the room. "Oh, I plan to. But you," she leaned in again, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "you are the event. Forget the mall. No one is looking at the animated walls, trust ."
I blushed lightly. "Thank you."
She smiled, then glanced between Adrien and Mr. Johnson. "I’ve been helping with guest flow and logistics on the upper level," she said lightly. "But I ca down as soon as I heard Mr. Walton had arrived."
Johnson chuckled. "She’s been running the place like a war general. I may steal her from you, Adrien."
"Let’s not test ," Adrien replied dryly.
We all laughed, even Clara.
Then she turned back to , dropping her voice just a touch. "It’s unfair, don’t you think? You’re not around much, and I’ve been the one handling nearly everything at the office. It’s almost like I’m the one carrying the load."
I frowned softly. "I’m so sorry. I’ll be back soon."
Clara shook her head. "No, no—I’m not complaining." She smiled again. "I just ant... if you hadn’t been bedridden, I’d think you were taking a very glamorous vacation." She paused for a beat before adding, "Pardon my manners. I should’ve asked... how are you feeling now? After... everything?"
I nodded, ward by the sincerity in her tone. "I’m better, thanks for asking. And... Thanks again for helping ." The words ca out as more of a reflex, but I ant them.
Her smile stretched a little wider. "Of course," she replied, before turning to scan the crowd. "Well, I’m sure there’s much to look forward to tonight. Especially for you."
For ?
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